Chameleon
by Purple Aussie
Summary: G1. Prowl's becoming almost the complete opposite of himself: violent, disrespectful, and lashing out at his friends. There's just no valid explanation. Rated T, just in case.
1. Chapter 1

"I will not tolerate too much more of this Prowl," Optimus Prime thundered, wrapping up his verbal lashing of the tactician.

Jazz shuddered at his tone.

Prime rarely yelled, but when he did...

"I can't believe this," Wheeljack flashed quietly as the commander strode out of the crowded common room.

"What did he _do_?" Jazz questioned in a whisper, looking round his table at his stunned companions.

For Prime to tear strips off Prowl was incredible enough, to do it in front of most of the Ark was unbelievable.

"Arrogant walking junkyard," Prowl spat clearly in the tense silence, and every jaw in the room but his dropped as he stalked out.

Every Autobot knew Prime hadn't been too pleased with the tactician lately.

Prowl had been showing up late for shifts, handing in sloppy duty reports, doing very little other than what was absolutely necessary of him...and those were the _nicest _of his recent indiscretions.

"Oh man, I'm going to bed," Jazz said dejectedly, pulling himself up, "Maybe I can dream up some miracle cure to bring the old Prowl back."

He left the subdued Wheeljack, Ratchet and Mirage staring at their receptacles of Energon and wandered to his quarters, lost in bleak thoughts.

"Jazz,"

A voice brought him back to reality in the hall.

He turned and looked up at the big Valkyrie.

"Hey man, you're back...are you OK?"

"Have you seen Prowl?" Skyfire asked sharply, ignoring the question.

"Yeah, he just left the common room...but I doubt he wants to talk anyone right now," Jazz understated.

"Why?"

"Prowl relayed a message to myself this afternoon, that I was to take the Aerialbots and scout an area in the Bahamas. He said Teletran had picked up some Decepticon activity in the vicinity,"

"Yeah...?" Jazz said warily.

He had a bad feeling about where this was heading, especially as Skyfire was plainly trying hard to keep his temper in check: unusual for the sweet-natured jet.

"We split up and patrolled for over four hours, without a hint of any Decepticons.

Silverbolt and Fireflight were furthest east, and picked up an incoming squall.

It was moving in at a fast clip, so we contacted headquarters to report and abandon patrol. It was Prowl who received us,"

"And what did he say?" Jazz dared to ask.

"He said, 'You're flyers, so fly above it,' and jammed communications. To the Ark, and between ourselves."

Jazz stared at the white mech in disbelief.

"You must be sorely mistaken Skyfire,"

Skyfire shook his head.

"I wish I was Jazz. The storm's electrical activity scrambled some of our circuits too, and long story short, we were lost and rapidly losing power. Thank Primus Optimus ordered Powerglide to New York this morning. He picked up our distress signals and guided us in,"

Skyfire sighed, anger apparently draining.

"You know the worst part Jazz?"  
"There's a worse part?"

"When I went to report to Optimus Prime, he had no idea what was going on. Prowl had sent us out off his own back for some reason...and I'd even go so far as to say he knew there were no Decepticons out there."

X  
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Jazz sat on his bunk, shaken.

No wonder Prime had dragged the tactician over the coals.

Jazz felt lost.

There was no other way to describe it.

Prowl was becoming almost the complete opposite of his old self.

He was treating the other Autobots, Optimus Prime and Jazz included, and his personal responsibilities, with increasing contempt.

He seemed to be continually spoiling for a fight, and as unreal as it felt, the gentle, quiet tactician was becoming a frightening spectre in a lot of optics.

Tensions in the Ark were fast reaching breaking point, as most of the Autobots warily skirted Prowl, or avoided him altogether.

It was like a nightmare to Jazz, one he could not wake from.

Not in his wildest imagination had he ever thought they'd have to look over their shoulders for Prowl, of all Autobots.

The entire Ark was on a razor's edge.

The tactician continued to shrug off or ignore Jazz's every attempt to reach out to him.

He lashed out verbally, colourfully and indiscriminately, at every opportunity, until it reached the stage where Ironhide had seriously threatened to remove his vocalizer, without Ratchet's help.

Even then Prowl kept up his verbal abuse.

At one point Jazz had literally gotten down on his knees, begging him to open up and tell him what was wrong, to no avail.

Optimus Prime couldn't do a thing with him.

Prowl simply ignored any orders that didn't suit him, which was beginning to plainly tick off certain Autobots.

And he was going out of his way to rub his closest friends up the wrong way, Jazz finally forced himself to acknowledge.

"If I just knew what was going on with him..." Jazz whispered to himself.

He thought back over recent events, trying to pinpoint something that may have set off Prowl's abrupt about-face of character.

There was _nothing_.

Until recently, Prowl's strategies and analyses had been nearing perfection, and Prime had been more than satisfied with his second-in-command.

Nobody had said or done anything to the tactician to set off such behaviour; at least, nothing that Jazz was aware of.

Jazz sincerely hoped he himself wasn't the catalyst, but couldn't see any reason why he would be.

Prowl had simply gone to bed one end-cycle, and onlined the next day a completely different Autobot.

Jazz shoved off his bed and went to his open door.

He glanced warily up and down the corridor, then slipped into the tactician's quarters next to his, feeling like a common criminal as he glanced around.

Prowl's space looked just the way it always had, but there was a cold air about it.

Or maybe it was just because Prowl himself had become that way.

Jazz spotted a duty log on the tactician's bunk and hesitantly picked it up, wondering if Prime was justified in his complaints.

He was.

_I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own optics_, Jazz thought, shaking his head in disbelief at the pathetic duty log.

"Get out of my quarters,"

Jazz spun around at the icy tone, nearly dropping the datapadd.

"Prowl, sorry man, I was just-"

"Get out," the tactician repeated, "I won't tell you again."

Jazz stared at him, unable to believe what he was hearing.

The two black and white mechs spent more time in each other's quarters than they did in their own.

Or used to.

He wordlessly laid the datapadd on Prowl's desk and left the room, the door just about grazing his heels as the tactician forcefully closed it behind him.

Jazz leaned back on the wall of the corridor and buried his face in his hands.

He stayed that way for several astroticks, trying hard to regain his composure.

"Are you ok Jazz?" a quiet voice asked, and the saboteur raised his head.

Bluestreak was gazing at him with a mixture of sadness and concern.

"Uh, yeah man," Jazz said, straightening up.

He sighed.

"Who am I kidding. I'm not ok."  
He didn't elaborate and Bluestreak didn't need to ask.

Prowl's behaviour was causing shockwaves right through the entire Ark, with those closest to him bearing the brunt.

"I'm going to talk to him," Bluestreak declared suddenly, sick of seeing the Porsche hurting, as much as he tried to hide it.

The silver Datsun was upset and confused by Prowl too.

It was hard for him to see a mech he'd always looked up to become so detestable.

"Bluestreak...don't," Jazz said softly, catching him by a forearm.

The gunner gently pulled free.

"I have to do _something _Jazz."

The saboteur watched him tap lightly on Prowl's door and hesitantly enter.

Jazz retreated to his own quarters, hoping the youngster that Prowl had such a soft spot for might be able to get through the barriers that he couldn't.

He threw himself onto his recharge bay and stared unseeing at the ceiling, until an even noisier door slam caused him to nearly leap out of his casing.

"Oh man," Jazz said to himself, any vague hopes he'd had for Bluestreak crushed.

The silver Datsun appeared in his doorway, a deeply hurt expression on his features.

Jazz went to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"He told me I was nothing but a functionless liability, and...and that I do nothing in battle besides put you all in danger," Bluestreak said shakily to his feet.

"I can't believe this," Jazz said, half to himself, and wondering why he was so surprised.

Because it was so unlike the tactician was why.

Prowl had _always _kept Bluestreak protectively under his wing as much as possible, and seen to it the jibes about his slight klutziness were kept to a minimum.

His first impulse was to go and tell Prowl exactly what he thought of his treatment of the gunner, but common sense told him to leave it.

"Jazz...what's going on with him?" Bluestreak whispered, giving the saboteur a bewildered look, and reminding Jazz of how young he was.

"I don't know Bluestreak. I don't know," Jazz said defeatedly.


	2. Chapter 2

Jazz blearily onlined, and wasn't happy about it.

He'd had great trouble falling into recharge -and staying that way- as he'd had every rest cycle since this mess began.

Knowing that he'd wake to someone who was much more a stranger than his closest friend wasn't exactly a fuzzy lullaby to sleep on.

Jazz doubted if Bluestreak had had a better recharge, given how disconsolate he'd been when he'd left the saboteur's quarters.

Jazz had heard Prowl next door several times during the night, at his computer console, or what sounded like just wandering.

The saboteur had wondered if his conscience was keeping the tactician awake.

Jazz had considered knocking on Prowl's door with an offer of hot Energon and two willing audios, but intuition told him it wouldn't be appreciated

He groaned and pulled himself out of bed, not wanting to be late for duty.

Jazz entered the hall and paused, debating whether he should see if Prowl was up.

The Datsun's duty roster was the same as his own this fortnight.

Even as badly as he'd been treated by Prowl lately, Jazz just didn't have it in him to see the tactician in hot water with Optimus Prime again.

Jazz tapped once, and warily stepped just inside the door.

The black and white mech was curled up on his recharge bed, back to the door.

"Hey Prowl man, you awake?" Jazz asked hesitantly.

"Wide awake," the tactician growled.

"Do you feel ok?"  
"Never better."

"Uh, I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be late for duty,"

"I'll be there when, or _if_,I'm good and ready. Now get out," Prowl snapped, making no attempt to get up.

"Man, you're bringing this all on yourself," Jazz pointed out, taking a couple of steps toward the Datsun's bed.

"Leave me alone."

"Prowl-"

"Are you just stupid, or have you finally deafened yourself? Shut up and get the slag _out _of my quarters, _now_," Prowl snarled, rolling over and sitting up, "Before I take out your speakers and shove them down your throat."

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"So once again Prowl will not be joining us," Optimus commented in irritation, after Jazz repeated his run-in with the Datsun.

"No Prime," Jazz confirmed flatly.

"Why don't you get him and _drag _him here?" Trailbreaker asked the Autobot commander sharply, fed up to the optics with Prowl shirking his responsibilities.

"What's the point Trailbreaker?" Prime said sourly, and the big mech had to concur.

Even when Prowl deigned to show up for a shift, he did so little that he may as well not be there.

X  
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X

"Are you guys ready?" Bumblebee questioned.

He'd rounded up Tracks, Mirage and Hound, and suggested that they speak to Prowl as a friendly, non-threatening group.

He knew from Jazz that Prowl was, uh, _resting_, in his quarters (the Volkswagen couldn't bring himself to apply the word "lazing" to his second in command) and figured it was a good opportunity for, well, an intervention.

Bumblebee admired and respected the tactician, and badly wanted the old Prowl back.

The other three had always worked and gotten on very well with the Datsun too.

They missed his unflappable presence as a workmate, but they missed his friendship more.

"Bumblebee, I'd like to try and help Prowl as much as anyone," Tracks spoke up, "But try not to forget Mirage and I live just two doors down the hall from him...and given his recent behaviour, I'd rather avoid provoking him too much,"

"Tracks, we have to try," Mirage said decisively, "Have you seen how miserable Jazz and Bluestreak have been through this?"

"I don't think anyone's been laughing it up Mirage," Hound put in flatly.

The whole situation just felt so unreal.

X  
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The concerned quartet made their way to Prowl's room, mentally bracing themselves.

They paused outside the Datsun's open door.

Bumblebee tapped lightly, and they filed in before they lost their collective nerve.

"Uh, morning Prowl," Bumblebee said cautiously.

The tactician was sprawled lazily on his bed, channel-surfing.

That surprised the Minibot.

Prowl rarely watched TV, and when he did, it was usually only because Jazz had talked him into it.

"What do you want?" Prowl said impatiently.

The Volkswagen took a step forward.

"We just wanted to talk to you for a few astroticks," he said, trying to sound casual but friendly.

"And what in the Universe makes you think I'd want to talk to you no-hopers?"

"'No-hopers?'" Hound spoke up.

"Primus, do I seriously have to spell it out?" Prowl snapped, flinging down the tv remote, getting of his bunk and stalking behind them.

All four turned and faced him warily.

"You," Prowl growled, pointing at Mirage, who would have stepped back if the Datsun's bed wasn't right behind him.

"I cannot for the life of me understand how a pampered, soft, spoiled brat like you could become an Autobot," Prowl sneered at the Ligier, "And I've had it up to my crest with your so-called homesickness. You don't miss Cybertron, you miss being pandered to,"

Mirage was speechless.

Hound laid a hand on the spy's shoulder.

"Prowl, that was uncalled for," he said flatly.

"The truth hurts," the Datsun snapped.

"And Prime really must've been scraping the bottom of the beryllium barrel," he threw at Hound, "To accept a mech whose only notable attribute -and I use that term _lightly_- is the ability to make pretty pictures, for rust's sake!"

"My holograms have gotten us out of some tight spots, as you know Prowl. And I'm sorry you think that's my _only _'attribute,'" the scout said in a low tone.

The Datsun had already turned on a stunned Tracks.

"It must be the thing to have human pets, is it? I can't understand what Raul sees in you," Prowl said scathingly.

"Well I suppose it doesn't really matter anyway,"  
"Why not?" Tracks asked sharply, highly offended.

Prowl glared at him.

"You'll likely end up getting him killed one of these days, especially if none of the rest of us are around to protect your dandy aft,"

"You son of a slagheap," Hound hissed, "Tracks would never let anything happen to Raul! And what have you got against humans all of a sudden - Chip is just as close to you as Raul is to Tracks! He saved your life Prowl!"

"Chip Chase can roll to hell, along with this little bootlick's bipedal lapdogs," Prowl snapped, waving a hand at the Volkswagen.

"You know Bumblebee, if Prime stops suddenly, you'll be right up his skidplate. Thank Primus you've finally stopped following _me _around."

"Prowl-" Hurt though he was, Bumblebee tried to reach out to him, but the tactician ignored him.  
"I think you four annoy me more than anyone else," Prowl said almost conversationally, strolling in front of them, carelessly swinging his acid-pellet rifle to and fro.

"Being stuck on this ball of dust is bad enough without having to suffer the company of mechs like you lot,"

He suddenly faced them, both hands on rifle in full attack stance...and aimed directly at the small group.

"Prowl, I don't think you know what you're doing," Tracks said softly, instinctively stepping forward, keeping Mirage, Hound and Bumblebee protectively behind him.

"I know exactly what I'm doing Tracks," Prowl said mildly, "Pointing my fully-functional acid-pellet rifle at four extremely irritating Autobots. And aren't you the noble warrior," he added sarkily.

"How revolting."

They heard some sudden footsteps, and Jazz appeared in Prowl's doorway.

"For Primus' sake, you're not serious!" the Porsche exclaimed.

The tactician turned to him slightly, without removing the rifle from its target.

"Do you want to try me?" Prowl asked darkly, and Jazz felt the entire Universe shift beneath and around him.

Grabbing the opportunity, Tracks slowly reached for his own weapon, but the tactician had faced him before he could draw it.

"I wouldn't suggest that," Prowl hissed.

Jazz openly activated his commlink.

"Jazz to Prime: we got a real situation on our hands," Jazz said in a controlled tone, looking the tactician in the optics.

"You better get down to Prowl's quarters, _now_,"

"_I'll be right there Jazz, Prime out_."

"Prowl man, give me the rifle," Jazz tried.

Prowl snorted.

"This isn't some three-star hostage movie Jazz. Wake up to yourself."

The Porsche stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

As he did so, Prowl took one step closer to his victims, still aiming the rifle.

He looked at Jazz over his shoulder, silently daring him to say something.

Jazz realized with a sickening start that this was _real_, and four of his friends were in real danger from...from _Prowl_.

"Prowl man, I'm so sorry," Jazz said quietly.

"For what?"  
"This," Jazz pulled out his own weapon and trained it on the tactician.

Prowl gave him a slight smile, positively dripping with loathing.

"You don't have the manifolds for it,"

Prowl adjusted his grip into a weapon-ready position.

Jazz turned his head and fired, hands shaking.

Tracks and Mirage caught the tactician as he collapsed like a spilled sack of grain, and lowered him to the floor.

Jazz felt his own knee-joints weaken as he let his rifle wilt down.

"Primus, what have I done?" he whispered.

"Saved our chassis, I'd say," Hound said sourly, "Jazz, you only stunned him, you know that."

Prime rushed in then, and the saboteur nearly leapt out of his casing.

"What in the Universe is going on here?" the Autobot commander demanded, eyeing his troops.

The unconscious tactician, still clutching the rifle.

His saboteur, also holding a weapon and looking like he was about to join Prowl on the floor.

Tracks, Bumblebee, Mirage and Hound as taken aback as if Primus himself had just appeared before them.

"Somebody care to answer me?" Optimus tried again, going down on one knee to give Prowl a once-over.

Hound looked around at the gobsmacked Autobots and realized it would be up to him to explain.

"Sweet Cybertron..." Prime mumbled when the Jeep was done.

He glanced at Prowl and straightened.

"Are you all right?" he asked, hands on Mirage's and Bumblebee's shoulders as he looked the four of them over.

Mirage was more upset by the tactician's words than his actions, as was Tracks, but Bumblebee and Hound couldn't get past the fact that a trusted friend had had a weapon in their face.

"We're fine Prime," Tracks spoke for the four of them, but without much conviction.

Optimus Prime turned to his shaken saboteur.

"Jazz, you did the right thing," the Autobot commander told him quietly, trying to reassure him.

Optimus Prime bent down, disarmed the Datsun and subspaced the acid-pellet rifle in grim silence.

"I'm taking him to the medbay. And I'm going to ask Ratchet to run every test known to Autobot medicine on him," Prime said quietly, collecting the unconscious Prowl.

Jazz shook himself off as Optimus Prime exited and turned to his friends.

"Hey you guys all right?" he asked anxiously.

Each wore an identical_ I can't believe that just happened _expression.

Jazz knew how they felt.

"Jazz...I don't miss any of that," Mirage quavered, "That...those things Prowl said. I miss _Cybertron_, my old home-"

"I know man," Jazz assured him, patting the Ligier's shoulder.

"There's something very wrong here. The Prowl I know would _never _have done that," Tracks pointed out, upset.

"That's it, never again," Hound said sharply, "I don't care what happens to him from here on out."

"But Hound-" Bumblebee spoke up hesitantly, and the Jeep cut in vehemently.

"Don't tell me you're still willing to put yourselves in another situation like this! How the slag can you help someone who pulls a weapon on you!"

The scout stalked out, absolutely boiling.

X  
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"Prime, what happened here?" Ratchet asked as the commander laid the oblivious Datsun on an examination bay.

The Autobot commander tightly explained.

"Primus on a rack," Ratchet muttered, startled.

"What on Cybertron got into him?"

"That's what I want you to find out Ratchet," Optimus Prime said quietly, and asked the medic to run scans, tests...whatever he thought necessary.

"I want to be here when he regains consciousness, Ratchet," Prime added firmly.

He gave the Datsun a last glance and left.

"Prowl, Prowl, Prowl...what are we going to do with you?" Ratchet said softly, gazing at the Autobot who used to be the most even-tempered mech in the Ark.

He began a plethora of tests and exams, praying for a medical reason for Prowl's recent behaviour.

Ratchet was relieved he had a chance to thoroughly examine the Datsun.

Ever since Prowl had begun acting out of character, Ratchet had been trying to get him to come to the medbay.

That was near-impossible at the best of times just out of Prowl's sheer stubbornness. But now the tactician seemed to have developed a deep, almost panicked, outright mistrust of the medic.

And that hurt.

Ratchet tried hard to look past Prowl's behaviour, telling himself the tactician was simply a mech who needed some medical attention, not a friend who no longer trusted him.

He worked carefully through the tests, making certain not to miss anything, and kept up a running conversation with the unconscious Datsun.

"We'll fix whatever this is Prowl...Jazz is so worried about you, you're lucky to have a friend like him...you need a good kick in the aft though...you seem pretty healthy so far, I don't know if that's good or bad..."

Exams completed, Ratchet tried to make the tactician comfortable.

He considered for a split astrotick, then just as quickly decided against, the precautionary restraints modified into every Cybertronian medbay bunk.

The last thing he wanted to do was give Prowl a real reason to fear him.

The medic contacted Optimus Prime when the Datsun began showing signs of regaining consciousness, and waited for the commander to speak to his unbalanced second in command.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ratchet man, you _sure _nothing showed up in those tests?" Jazz said that night, almost begging the medic to give him a scrap of hope.

"Nothing Jazz. He's in perfect health...physically _and _mentally," the medic said defeatedly.

"Everything he's saying and doing is coming from within himself."

They glanced up as the common room's decibel level waned, and saw that Prowl had entered.

Jazz noticed that even Sunstreaker dropped his gaze as the tactician glared around.

"Sorry to disappoint you all, but yes, I am still functioning," Prowl said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Jazz glanced over sharply, as someone muttered something about taking the Datsun out while he was still weak.

Prowl clearly heard too, and advanced on the trio sitting towards the back of the room.

"Rusting useless miserable little scrap heaps," Prowl spat, "If anyone had had any sense, creating Minibots would have been outlawed aeons ago,"

Cliffjumper, Brawn and Windcharger just stared at him.

"You slagging sparkless glitch! You're a disgrace to your creator!" Cliffjumper found his vocalizer and leapt to his feet.

"And a disgrace to the Autobots," Brawn added.

"Want a piece of me, _Cliffy_? Come on then!" Prowl antagonized, "Wait an astrotick, I'll make it easy for you,"

The tactician dropped to his knees.

"Hound'll thank me for this," Cliffjumper swore, cracking his knuckle-joints.

"Who's with me?" he glanced around.

Jazz and Ratchet leapt to their feet as one, as not only Cliffjumper moved in on the Datsun.

There was formidable strength currently occupying the room, Jazz noted uneasily: The three Minibots, Slingshot, Warpath, Inferno, Huffer, among others...more than enough to take the tactician apart.

And most of those present had been viewing their second in command with outright malice.

"All right, enough!" Ratchet barked, shoving roughly through the mob, closely followed by Jazz.

The medic tugged the antagonistic Prowl to his feet before he could protest, and turned on the rest of the Autobots.

"Proud of yourselves? Going to make light work of the Autobot who's just come out of the medbay?" Ratchet spat.

Jazz made his own sentiments even clearer.

He stepped deliberately in front of Prowl and looked each of the vigilantes in the optics.

"Anyone who wants to have a go at him will go through me first," Jazz positively growled.

The seething Autobots backed off.

"For Primus' sake, if they think they can take me on, let them go!" Prowl snapped.

He tried to shove the saboteur out of the way, and Jazz and Ratchet grabbed him by the elbows as his knee-joints buckled.

"Ok, that's it," Ratchet declared, and dragged Prowl out of the room.

"Prowl, are you all right?" Ratchet asked him once they were in the hall.

"Let go of me, you glorified quack!" Prowl hissed fearfully and threw the medic's hands off his shoulders.

"Prowl, you know I won't hurt you," Ratchet said in consternation, as the Datsun stalked off unsteadily, without a backward glance.

Jazz glared around the common room -at Cliffjumper, especially- and walked out.

Jazz wasn't entirely certain how far things would have gone, but hadn't really wanted to find out.

"Where'd Prowl get to?" he asked Ratchet.

"Ingrate," Ratchet grumbled, "I don't know Jazz. I hope he's gone to bed. You stunned him harder than I thought. He should probably still be in the medbay,"

Jazz gave a world-weary sigh and studied the floor.

"Ratchet man...you don't know how hard I was hoping there was something wrong with him. Sounds terrible, but at least there'd be a _reason _for this..."

The medic gave him a disconsolate pat on the shoulder.

"So was I Jazz."

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Jazz just couldn't give up on Prowl.

Very, very few Autobots tolerated even hearing the Datsun's name spoken in their presence, after the incident in his quarters.

The hatred against him was growing every day.

Jazz shuddered to think what it might result in, especially considering the episode in the common room.

Even easy-going Wheeljack, who hadn't said one word against the tactician this entire time, had become anti-Prowl.

But not without good cause.

Wheeljack was working on the schematics for a powerful new energy collector, and had hesitantly asked Prowl to double-check the differential equations in the complex formula.

Prowl had a strong grounding in science, had a better understanding of Higher Mathematics than any other Autobot in the Ark, and tactician and engineer had not yet gotten on each other's bad side.

Prowl had agreed civilly, sending Jazz's hopes that maybe the old Prowl was back skyrocketing.

He was wrong, badly wrong.

Jazz was on duty in the control room, along with Optimus Prime, when the engineer stormed in and flung a datachip on the workbench between them.

"Three months of research, down the greasetrap," Wheeljack said flatly, vocal indicators flashing a dangerous orange.

"Wheeljack man, this isn't the formula for your energy collector?" Jazz asked him, but he already knew the answer.

"You know as well as I do it is Jazz,"

"What about a backup chip?" the saboteur said hopefully.

Wheeljack threw another corrupted datachip next to the first.

"That's my backup, and it has also been erased from Teletran's memory banks,"

"Wheeljack, how did this happen?" Prime asked, picking up the dead chips.

"Guess, Prime. I asked Prowl to check the equations," the Lancia said coolly, as close to furious as Jazz had ever seen him.

"Oh man...you sure it wasn't an accident?" Jazz asked, painfully aware that amount of damage just couldn't be accidental.

"Jazz, datachips don't corrupt themselves!" Wheeljack snapped, "And the only other Autobot who had access to it besides myself was Prowl!"

X  
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"Prowl, why did you do it?" Jazz implored the Datsun's back over the hiss of water.

He'd had a stroke of luck and cornered the tactician at the wash-rack, where Prowl couldn't walk out on him or slam a door in his face.

And by another stroke of luck Prowl was the only one in there at the moment.

"What are you babbling about?" the Datsun snapped without turning around.

"Wheeljack's formula. Why on Cybertron did you destroy it? That energy collector would have been a benefit to us all," Jazz pointed out as Prowl polished his chest scallop.

Jazz waited while the silent Datsun rinsed his door-panels and deactivated the water flow.

"You're not going to answer me, are you," Jazz stated, wiping steam off his visor.

"Give that Autobot an Energon treat," Prowl sneered, shoving past him to a drying unit.

Jazz seized him by a damp forearm and pulled him back so they were face to face.

"Unhand me, you over-ranked exhibitionist," Prowl snarled.

"Tell me why you did it," Jazz said quietly, ignoring the insult.

"I felt like it. Happy now?"

Prowl yanked his arm out of the Porsche's grip and stalked past him.

Jazz looked at him for an astrotick, and just walked out.

X  
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The following morning, Jazz sat at his post in the Ark control room, idly tapping his fingers and thinking.

After leaving Prowl at the wash rack, he'd gone to Wheeljack and spent half the night trying to help the engineer piece together his lost formula.

Wheeljack had been pretty icy with the Universe at first.

But it wasn't in his nature to be that way for long, and he and Jazz had ended up in a long, involved discussion about the tactician.

However they didn't come to any conclusions, nor could they revive the engineer's formula.

Jazz sighed and turned his attention back to the screens he was supposed to be monitoring.

He was covering this shift for the absent Prowl. It was easier to just shut up and cover it, rather than trying to get the Datsun out of bed and then listening to the bad-mouthing.

And more likely than not end up covering it anyway.

Jazz glanced up as all the shop talk faltered and ceased.

The tactician had noisily stumbled in, nearly two Earth hours late for duty.

It was clear he'd been into the Energon the night before, probably into the small hours.

Jazz -and the rest of the Autobots- were stunned speechless.

Prowl did not over-energize, plain and simple.

The old Prowl, at least.

"Nice of you to join us," Trailbreaker said sarcastically, eyeing the dishevelled mech up and down.

Optimus Prime marched over, seething.

He stared at Prowl in pure disgust for several astroticks.

The Datsun was having difficulty just standing up straight.

"So what's my assignment?" Prowl muttered.

"If you'd bothered to read the duty sheet, you'd know," Prime practically growled, "But don't put yourself out, Prowl, it's covered,"

Prowl glared unevenly around the room as the on-duty Autobots stared at him, and discovered who was covering his shift.

Jazz got out of his seat and slowly walked to him in the silence.

Prowl looked the Porsche square in the visor, as well as he could in his condition.

"Traitorous rust heap," he slurred angrily, and took a badly uncoordinated swing at the saboteur.

Jazz gathered his shocked wits and easily dodged.

A collective gasp went through the room.

Prowl over-balanced and went down on hands and knees.

Jazz squatted to his level.

"Prowl, what's going on with you," Jazz whispered sorrowfully, restraining the impulse to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Slag off," Prowl hissed at the control-room floor.

"He's not worth your trouble Jazz," Trailbreaker snorted.

Prime strode over to yank him to his feet, and Jazz noticed Prowl never looked the commander in the optics.

"You're off-duty indefinitely, and I'm confining you to quarters," Prime said, and they all heard the controlled anger in his tone.

"You won't last a week without me," Prowl sneered.

"We've been managing so far through your malingering," Trailbreaker snapped.

"Trailbreaker, Ironhide, escort Prowl to his quarters," Optimus ordered flatly.

He handed him over, and the big mechs took a firm hold of his upper arms as they frog-marched him out.

"Everyone back to work," Prime said, trying hard to sound normal.

Jazz wasn't sure if anything would ever feel normal again.

X  
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X

Prowl roundly cursed his guards and their lineages for at least ten generations, in English and three different Cybertronian dialects, all the way to the living quarters hall.

"You watch your mouth, or you'll be picking it up off the floor," Ironhide warned sharply.

Prowl ignored him.

They practically shoved him through his door, and Trailbreaker just marched off, shaking his head in disgust, but Ironhide hesitated for an astrotick.

"Prowl old buddy, why don't you tell me what's wrong? I've known you for aeons, and this just isn't you," the older Autobot said gently, studying the tactician with undisguised concern.

"I'm not your buddy, and I don't know why Prime puts up with you," Prowl said tartly, turning his back on Ironhide.

"You're outdated and outmoded. Dead weight that the rest of us have to carry."

Ironhide stared at the black and white mech.

"I more than carry my weight Prowl. And when I reach the end of my usefulness I'll acknowledge it. Maybe you should rethink your own," the red mech said quietly.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days crept by with agonizing slowness for Jazz.

He couldn't stop himself from trying to talk to Prowl, and was rewarded with the tactician ignoring him as though he wasn't there.

Optimus Prime didn't back down, and let Prowl leave his quarters only when necessary.

Jazz noticed Prime had spent more time than normal alone in his own quarters, when he wasn't on duty.

That was hardly surprising.

Prowl, his second-in-command, loyal and trustworthy, with the unshakeable conviction that peace and justice were paramount, and must be restored to their world.

And he was a dear friend.

Had been.

The Porsche just couldn't believe what Prowl had said to Ironhide.

"And without even the decency to say it to my face," Jazz recalled Ironhide's bristling, hurt comment.

Jazz was more than relieved when it seemed there was some action on the horizon.

Recent surveillance had confirmed the Decepticons were currently stationed in one of their abandoned desert posses, and that the Constructicons were hanging around the spacebridge with suspicious regularity.

Optimus Prime wanted to know why, but realized that by approaching their compound, the Autobots would be the ones picking the fight.

"Well we're up for a box-in, right fellas?" Ironhide grinned.

"If we don't rough up some Decepticons soon-" Sideswipe started, "We might end up aiming closer to home," Sunstreaker finished, and they both glared at Prowl.

The tactician had meandered into the control room, during one of the five-minute constitutionals Optimus Prime had granted him through his lock-down.

"Stow it," Jazz snapped.

Optimus Prime ignored it.

"All right. Jazz, Ironhide, Sunstreaker, Cliffjumper, Tracks, Sideswipe, Trailbreaker: transform,"

He watched his troops line up and turned on Prowl.

"You too Prowl," Prime sharply ordered the sullen Datsun, "Get your aft into gear."

"Hey-" Cliffjumper started to protest, then changed his mind as Jazz offered to forcefully shepherd his fellow Porsche into a wall.

Prime pulled Prowl's confiscated rifle from a subspace pocket and tossed it to the tactician.

Optimus spoke to him in a low voice, but they all heard what was said.

"Aim it at any living thing besides a Decepticon, and I'll have you dismantled,"

Optimus Prime waited until the black and white mech had lazily transformed.

"All right, roll out!"

They fell into a swallow-tail behind their commander, and followed him into the desert.

X  
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X

Jazz and Ironhide had positioned themselves either side of the silent Datsun, at the rear of the convoy, and tried to make civil conversation with him.

The saboteur couldn't have stood being isolated in his quarters the way Prowl had been.

Ironhide just plain missed him, missed the old Prowl and his quiet but solid presence around the Ark.

What the tactician had said to him struck a tender nerve with the elder Autobot, especially as he'd always considered Prowl a loyal friend.

But Ironhide was still willing to do anything he could to help the black and white Datsun...if he'd just _speak_.

"Whaddaya think Megatron's got cookin' this time?" Ironhide asked, hoping to get some sort of response from Prowl.

"Don't know man," Jazz answered after a lengthy pause, "But whatever it is will be hazardous to our health, no question."

They finally approached the Decepticon compound, set far into the Oregon desert.

Optimus Prime signalled for them to transform, and they scattered, concealing themselves among the rocky debris.

"Autobots, surveillance mode," Prime ordered in an undertone as several heavy vehicles approached.

"Constructicons," Ironhide growled to no one in particular, "And I bet they just got a special delivery from Cybertron,"

He gestured to the suspicious-looking components in Long Haul's tipper as they paused a few yards from the entrance.

The spacebridge was not far from this particular Decepticon bunker.

Hook transformed and began conscientiously unloading the items, handling them very gently.

Jazz inched forward on his front for a better look, taking care not to draw any Constructicon attention.

That was all they needed, a set-to with Devastator.

The Porsche was just slowly rising to his knees behind a granite slab, when a shadow fell in front of him, and two rapid lots of fire burst in the middle of the Decepticons.

"Prowl!"

Jazz half-yelped, half-gasped without even turning around, instantly recognizing the distinct silhouette.

Bonecrusher, Mixmaster and Scavenger immediately returned fire as the rest of the Autobots leapt to their feet.

Hook snatched up the unloaded components and dashed into the base with Long Haul, to protect whatever it was they had, and undoubtedly alert the rest of the Decepticons.

"What the slag is your problem!" Trailbreaker roared as the Datsun leapt off his perch, the top of the outcrop.

Prowl ignored him as a rather unsettling number of Decepticons spilled out of the base and began attacking.

Jazz yanked out his rifle as Skywarp and Dirge made a strafing run, pinning the Autobots among the rocks.

"Autobots, concentrate firepower to the air!" Optimus Prime ordered.

The Earth-bound Decepticon weapons fire had no effect on the concealed Autobots, but it was a different story coming from above.

Thrust and Thundercracker joined the other Seekers in attack formation, and the Autobots fired as one.

Dirge and Thundercracker were forced to pull out, streaming plumes of black smoke as Megatron bellowed orders, and futilely fired his fusion cannon at the rocks.

Jazz glanced around.

The familiar _zing-zing_ of the tactician's acid-pellet rifle was conspicuous in its absence.

The Porsche saw that Prowl was more or less skulking at the back of the group...was he trying to _back away_?

The Datsun had even pocketed his weapon.

Jazz lowered his own rifle, without realizing, in disbelief.

"Jazz!"

A small red streak dive-tackled the saboteur out of the path of another strafing run by Thrust.

"Slagging coward," Cliffjumper swore with vengeance -he'd followed Jazz's gaze to the slinking tactician- and directed a blast of glass gas at the cone-head Seeker.

It shattered Thrust's weapon banks on contact, and sent him wildly off-balance as a bonus.

Ironhide threw himself down near the saboteur, firing off a few well-placed shots that grounded the maroon jet.

"Well I'll be scrapped," Ironhide muttered in complete disbelief, also catching sight of the tactician.

Jazz saw the look of utter disgust and intense disappointment in the older mech's optics.

He realized with a sinking certainty that Prowl had just lost Ironhide's support, and probably his entire friendship.

"Primus, what's _wrong _with him!" Jazz exclaimed, leaping to his feet.

Ironhide grabbed his bumper bar and pulled him down.

"Stay down," he ordered sharply.

Sunstreaker was cursing up a storm, and Jazz honestly couldn't blame him.

He heard Tracks fire off his shoulder weapons.

That, combined with a few shots from Sideswipe, finally turned Skywarp back to the ground.

Prime held up a hand, and the Autobots paused as the Decepticons dragged themselves back to their commander.

"Optimus Prime!" Megatron thundered, "You have no business here! Leave before I decide to scatter your sorry chassis across the landscape!"

Prime got to his feet and gestured for his troops to do the same.

They all did so, weapons at the ready.

"What are you up to now Megatron," the imposing Autobot rumbled, "Whatever it is, you _will_ be stopped,"

"Go right ahead Optimus," the Decepticon commander sneered in a tone every Autobot present hated.

"We'll be back Megatron," Prime warned. "Autobots, transform and withdraw,"

They complied, trying to keep tempers in check at the taunting laughter from the despised Decepticon.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe simmered on the way back to the Ark, speculating over what was going on with the enemy, and Jazz was somewhat relieved to see they'd forgotten Prowl's little stunt...at least for the time being.

The saboteur suddenly realized the other black and white mech wasn't among them.

And nobody, including Optimus Prime, seemed to have noticed.

The Porsche very gradually dropped back and then stopped altogether.

He transformed, hoping none of the others would notice his absence either.

Once the team was out of sight, Jazz quickly scaled an outcrop and set visual sensors to scan in every spectrum.

The Decepticons obviously hadn't captured Prowl.

The only thing Jazz could come up with was that maybe the Datsun had somehow been injured and was now incapacitated.

Dusk was settling fast, blurring distances and making the rocky outcrops fade, but Jazz picked out the familiar 280zx back end.

Slipping away quietly into the desert, without lights.

"What the-" Jazz yelped.

In the few astroseconds it took for the saboteur to make himself believe and grasp what was happening, Prowl, now a vague spot on the horizon, figuratively put his foot down.

"Slag you Prowl!"

Jazz yelped to the sky, and flung himself to the ground, transforming on his way. Once his tyres hit sand, peeled after the Datsun.

Prowl had a head start, and was among the group of fastest Autobots, but wasn't quite in Jazz's category.

Jazz gradually gained on him, and try as he might, the Porsche was determined that the Datsun wasn't going to shake him.

"Prowl man, what are you doing?" Jazz yelled desperately, "Prime'll have your aft!"

"I don't care._ Leave me alone_,"

Jazz activated his magnet beam, full power, caught Prowl squarely on the rear bumper, and hit the brakes.

The Porsche was heavier than the Datsun, but he was travelling at such a speed that he dragged the saboteur a good two hundred metres before Jazz brought him to a standstill.

"Prowl! I have no idea what you're playing at man, but you're not going anywhere til we get to the bottom of this," Jazz said determinedly as the dust began settling.

"Let me _go_," Prowl hissed, drawing left and right, like a team of huskies trying to crack an iced-in sled.

Jazz put up maximum effort to keep him stationary.

"No. You're coming back to the Ark, with me."

The tactician suddenly transformed and jerked his feet back, breaking the magnetic hold.

"Leave, or you'll be sorry," Prowl hissed, clenching his fists as Jazz transformed.

Jazz held his hands up in a passive pose.

"Prowl. You're going to have to let someone help you sooner or later man. I don't know what I've done to lose your trust, but I'm sorry," the saboteur said softly as the Datsun turned his back on him.

Jazz looked at him for a few astroticks, wondering what he could say, then caught the subtlest change in posture.

Jazz made a wild dive and tackled the Datsun around the knee-joints before he could transform, slapping both of them face-first into the desert sand with a grunt.

Prowl immediately began kicking and struggling, trying unsuccessfully to shake himself loose of the stranglehold.

Jazz managed to gather his knees under him while still hanging on to the tactician.

Then, in one swift move, almost leap-frogging, he pinned Prowl by the forearms, the Datsun's knees between his own.

And had a very hard time holding Prowl down as he continued struggling to free himself.

Saboteur and tactician were fairly evenly matched in strength, and Jazz wasn't sure he could keep him down for long.

Jazz snapped up, letting go of the black arms, and brought his palms down near the tactician's door-panel junctions, hoping that would be more effective.

Prowl scrabbled about, attempting to get his hands underneath and force himself up, still kicking and trying to shake the saboteur off.

Jazz moved his hands further outward and deliberately leaned down, his weight pressing Prowl's door-panels forward into the sand.

He knew it would hurt the sensitive appendages, and hated having to do it.

But he had no choice.

"Primus Prowl, I don't want to hurt you man!" Jazz panted, "_Please _just be still,"

The Datsun still refused to speak, but his throes minimized.

Jazz started slightly as his commlink chirped.

"_Optimus Prime to Jazz: what is your location? Please acknowledge_,"

"Still in the desert Prime...and I've got Prowl," the saboteur managed to answer grimly.

The commander paused.

"_Bring him back, right now_."

Prowl stopped struggling altogether at Optimus Prime's communiqué, and Jazz cautiously reached into a subspace pocket to disarm the tactician.

Prowl let him take the acid-pellet rifle without a murmur.

Jazz climbed off him, and reached down to pull the tactician to his feet.

Prowl ignored the helping hand and got to his knees, left door-panel at an awkward angle and obviously hurting him.

Jazz gave himself a mental kick in the aft for injuring the tactician.

"Man, are you going to come with me without hassles, or am I going to have to tow you?"

The Datsun stood, transformed without a word, and waited.

Jazz transformed, and they headed back to the Ark silently.


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz cursed under his vocalizer as he pulled into the jumping Ark control room behind the Datsun.

Autobots were crowded around, practically hanging off the rafters, kicking speculation about.

Waiting for the guillotine to fall.

Red Alert, especially, was almost having kittens.

"Haven't any of you got anything better to do?" Jazz snapped, transforming.

"Haven't _you _got anything better to do than chase after cowardly skulkers?" Smokescreen spoke up with surprising force.

Red Alert pushed through the crowd.

"Prowl! You've become an outright security risk! You're coming with me right now,"

Jazz caught the security chief around the midsection as he made a beeline for the Datsun, and lifted him off the floor a foot or two.

"Jazz! Put me down and let me do my job!" Red Alert squalled, struggling in the saboteur's grip.

"Red, let Prime speak to him first," Jazz said in a low tone.

The response vehicle flailed about, trying to elbow himself free, his back against the Porsche's grille.

"You know something don't you! That's why you keep defending him! Both of you, _Decepticon sympathisers_!"

"You paranoid fool! If I knew _anything _about what's going on with him, I'd be doing whatever I could to reverse it!" Jazz exclaimed, trying to restrain the Lamborghini's arms.

"Let me go Jazz!"

Inferno ploughed through the other Autobots and fronted the Porsche threateningly.

"Put him down,"

"Inferno, I'm not trying to hurt him man! I'm-"

They fell silent as Optimus Prime entered, Ironhide behind him.

The look in the commander's optics would have melted tritanium alloy.

Jazz released the Lamborghini, and he and Inferno backed off.

All this time Prowl had sat wordless, still in alt mode.

"What on Cybertron is going on here?" Prime rumbled, and held his hand up as the room exploded with accusations and fanciful explanations.

"I don't want to hear it."

He waited until the cacophony dribbled into silence.

"Jazz...you said you were in the desert, and that you had Prowl?"

Optimus Prime asked quietly, turning to his saboteur and giving the Datsun a brief glance.

"Yeah...after the battle I realized Prowl wasn't with us, so I went to find him," Jazz explained, handing over Prowl's rifle.

Prime glanced at it, then subspaced it once again.

He paused for an astrotick, thinking, then turned to the tactician.

"Prowl,"

The Datsun didn't make a sound or move an inch.

Ironhide gave him a sharp kick in the rear bumper.

"Transform while Prime's talkin' to you! If you're not careful, I'll reprogram some respect back into you, and it won't be gentle!"

Prowl snorted and took his sweet time transforming.

"Thank you Ironhide," Prime said dryly.

Jazz waited with growing apprehension as the Autobot commander paced.

He paused and looked at the black and white mech.

"I never thought this was possible, let alone that it would become reality Prowl!

I have completely lost all trust in you," Prime informed him, while most of the Ark looked on, mentally poleaxed.

"Where in the Universe did you think you were going!"

Prowl, who'd been gazing into the distance with the distinct impression of someone who didn't give a slag, now gave his commander a direct, insolent stare.

"Away from them," the tactician declared, jerking his hand at the crowd, "And him," he added with a spiteful glare at Jazz.

"And especially you," Prowl spat vehemently.

"Why you-" Ironhide began again.  
Prime held up a hand.

"It's all right Ironhide. Let him say it," he said calmly, looking Prowl in the optics.

"Prowl, please don't," Jazz pleaded from behind the tactician, in a tone meant only for his audios.

The Datsun ignored Jazz and Ironhide both, and did not break his glare.

"I curse the day the Matrix ended up in your hands. We wouldn't be stuck on this pathetic planet, and the war would have been over long ago, under a commander who actually has some manifolds and foresight. You have neither," Prowl sneered, folding his arms.

Even Jazz couldn't have said a word to save his life at that moment.

A few low whispers began ripple through the crowd, who, if they'd been spiteful before, were now outraged, to put it mildly.

Ironhide turned away from Prowl, as if he couldn't stand the very sight of him.

Prime held up a hand to quell the angry murmurs and addressed the Datsun.

"I probably should have done this sooner, but I had hoped your actions and attitude would return to normal. I see I have been badly mistaken Prowl,"

Optimus Prime said evenly.

"Aren't you always," Prowl snapped.

The Autobot commander ignored his words.

"I'm hereby stripping you of all rank and authority. You're now an Autobot in name only."

"It's not my Day of Creation, is it? Because that's the best thing I've heard this millennium," Prowl said sarcastically.

"Slag it, we're going to take you apart and it won't be long," Sunstreaker swore hotly from the back of the crowd.

Optimus Prime regarded his former second in command coolly.

"Prowl, I'm also placing you under house arrest. I am truly sorry it has come to this, but you leave me with no other option," he said quietly.

Prime glanced around.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, until further notice, I want you to guard Prowl's door,"

The crowd parted to let the two seething warriors approach the Datsun.

"Do _not _touch me," Prowl warned, low, as the Lamborghinis advanced on him.

"Sunstreaker. Sideswipe. Escort him to his quarters. Without physical restraint," Optimus Prime emphasised.

The two of them plainly didn't like that, but stalked out, Prowl between them, without laying a hand on him.

X  
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"Prime should have kicked your aft til your optics bled," Sunstreaker hissed in the tactician's audio.

Like lightning Prowl turned on them.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked, loud and clear.

"Do you want it to be?" Sideswipe said flatly.

"If we did you over it still wouldn't make up for all the slag you've been giving everyone," Sunstreaker added hatefully.

"You two think you can take me? Come on then, do it!" Prowl goaded the warriors, who hesitated.

It wasn't so much the fact of taking on someone whose authority had, until a few astrominutes ago, been second only to Prime's, or that Prowl probably matched or bettered either of them in physical strength, that made the brothers pause.

It was the look in his optics that was sending shivers through both Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's terminals.

"Come on! You know I'm unarmed," Prowl antagonized, fists clenched by his sides and right door-panel drawn back.

"Hey! What's going on here?" a distinct voice interjected, and Jazz stalked down the hall to the flashpoint.

He'd followed, knowing a confrontation was a real possibility.

"Stay out of it Jazz," Sunstreaker warned, without removing his optics from the tactician.

"I think you both need to upload some common sense," Jazz snapped.

He turned to the Datsun.

"Prowl man, seems I outrank you now-"

"The dirt on his treads outranks him now," Sunstreaker put in sarcastically.

"Shut up," Jazz bristled, "Don't forget, _I _still outrank you two,"

He turned back to the glowering tactician, about to say that he'd done some fast talking, and convinced Optimus Prime to let him be in his quarters unguarded.

The Datsun beat him to it, however.

"Jazz, I don't need your heroics," Prowl snarled, brushing past him and stalking away.

"_That's _what you keep defending?" Sideswipe sneered.

Jazz watched the black and white door-panels disappear into their owner's quarters, and stepped up close to the yellow and red mechs.

"Yes. And I'll _keep _defending him until I know what's going on, got it?" he hissed with uncharacteristic venom.

"You're an idiot then Jazz, a dead-set idiot," Sunstreaker said loudly.

The Porsche shrugged.

"Do I look like I give a damn? I hope not, because I don't. Now get out of here, he's not going to be treated like some outlaw,"  
Jazz glared at the brothers as they started to object.

"Got a problem with it? Go whine in Prime's audio."

The Lamborghinis exchanged a glance, and began sauntering down the hall,

verbally running the tactician down to the ground.

Jazz watched them go, then quietly tested Prowl's door.

Locked tight, probably from Teletran's main internal diagnostics in Prime's office.

The saboteur leaned forward and briefly laid his forehead on the door, wishing with all his soul Prowl would just tell him what was going on.

"Oh man, what a day," Jazz groaned under his vocalizer.

X  
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X

"So he just bolted?" Bumblebee asked Jazz in disbelief.

"Yeah," Jazz mumbled without elaborating.

He'd somehow ended up in the common room, not thinking.

Naturally it was overflowing with hostile and/or stunned Autobots, picking over the afternoon's events with all the subtlety of a swarm of starving vultures.

And they'd converged on the Porsche instantly.

Jazz tuned out as best he could, wanting to be left alone, carefully replaying Prowl's latest exploits in his mind's eye.

He glanced up sharply as the accusations and name-calling directed at the absent tactician turned downright disgusting.

"You foul-mouthed creep. Where in the Universe did you pick that up Sunstreaker? I'm not sure that's biologically possible even for a human, let alone an Autobot!" Jazz exclaimed angrily, bringing his fist down on his table loud enough to cease all chatter.

The Porsche stood up, furious.

"I've had it with you lot. Yeah, Prowl's recent shenanigans are unbelievable and probably unforgivable. Yeah, he needs his aft kicked! And yeah, nobody knows what's going through his CPU, including me!"

The rest of the Autobots shifted uncomfortably under the saboteur's white-hot glare.

No one had ever seen the effervescent mech so outraged.

"But I'm sick of this, and sick of the lot of you. Where do you think this kind of carry on is going to get us?"

"Shut up," he snapped, as Sunstreaker opened his mouth.

Jazz looked around the room.

"I'm going to see Prime. If any of you give the slightest slag about Prowl, you'll come with me."

X  
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Prime glanced up at the clutch of Autobots crowding his office.

"What's the problem?" he asked, but the question was unnecessary.

"Prowl's the problem Prime, and you know it," Jazz said cheerlessly.

His temper had cooled as quickly as it had flared.

A handful of Autobots had detached themselves from the mob in the common room to go with the saboteur, although Jazz had his doubts about Sideswipe and Red Alert joining them.

They fitted themselves around the commander's smallish office.

And looked at one another silently.

"I just don't get it. Is he sick? Is there something wrong with him that he's not telling us?"

Wheeljack speculated, rubbing his chin, and kicking off the discussion.

"That can't be it, he's as healthy as a newly-created turbo-fox," Ratchet pointed out.

"Maybe it's just us Wheeljack," a quiet voice spoke up, and they all looked to the young gunner.

"What do you mean Bluestreak?" Prime asked evenly.

The silver Datsun sighed, long and deep.

"I think Prowl just doesn't want to be an Autobot anymore...maybe he's had enough," he said quietly.

"But why wouldn't he just _tell _us?" Jazz said, getting to his feet.

Sideswipe sat up.

"I don't think Prowl wants out of the Autobots. I think he wants out _altogether_."

"Why do you say that man?" Jazz whispered, feeling like a block of ice had settled in his middle.

"Just his behaviour Jazz...he's been pushing his friends away...being so disrespectful...and especially the way he's behaving about Ratchet and the medbay...I just think that's weird,"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Jazz said loudly, "Prowl is _not _suicidal, do you hear me!"

"Of course he isn't," Bumblebee agreed vehemently.

"You're all missing something terribly obvious here," Red Alert vaulted into the debate, "It's plain that tactician of ours is planning to defect!"  
"Take that back," Jazz snapped, turning on the red and white Lamborghini.

Red Alert didn't back down.

"Jazz, face the facts! He's not doing his duties. He destroyed the makings of a potential potent energy device. He disappeared in the midst of a battle, probably to join the enemy and turn on us -"  
"Shut your face!" Jazz ordered, "Have you lost your mind? You know as well as I do that the only way Prowl would ever become a Decepticreep would be via some wishful thinking in Megatron's CPU!"

"I can't believe what's happening, but I have to agree with Jazz," Mirage said softly, staring at his hands, "We can't let ourselves think that way."

Red Alert flung his hands up.

"How are we supposed to think Mirage, when it's so obvious!"

He turned to Optimus Prime.

"Optimus, I recommend he be placed under round-the-clock surveillance," Red said firmly, placing his hands on the commander's desk and leaning forward.

"Red Alert, Prowl is under house arrest. I don't think he's going anywhere," Wheeljack said hesitantly.

"Correct Wheeljack," Optimus Prime said evenly.

"I just wish he'd let us help," Bumblebee said softly, echoing Jazz's constant sentiments.

Ironhide, who hadn't added a word to the debate so far, cleared his vocalizer.  
"If he keeps it up...he's going to lose the trust of every Autobot in the Ark."

They all turned as one to Prime at that, silently asking for some reassurance from their leader.

Optimus Prime looked round at his unhappy, discouraged troops, and spoke quietly.

"Prowl has chosen to head down his own path, and nothing we can say or do will change that."

X  
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X

Jazz hadn't seen the tactician for nearly three days.

He just could not comprehend how volatile Prowl had become.

Bumblebee had volunteered to bring the Datsun his Energon, but after Prowl had smashed three receptacles -full ones- by chucking them over the Volkswagen's head into the hall, Prime had taken it upon himself to do it.

Jazz had offered to be the one, but Optimus Prime wouldn't allow him.

The tactician had not yet pitched anything at the Autobot commander.

Up until the Desertion, as certain Autobots had christened it, Mirage had still been sticking by Jazz in their defence of the tactician.

Probably because he knew how badly it felt to be on the outer...even though unlike the situation Mirage had been in, Prowl was doing this to himself.

Bluestreak, Bumblebee and Ratchet had also continued to refuse to badmouth him, but after Prowl's behaviour toward Optimus Prime...well, that had been the straw that broke the dromedary.

To be honest, Jazz hadn't heard any of them say anything against Prowl, but they weren't exactly going out of their ways to defend him anymore either.

He knew that Ironhide didn't even want to see him; he'd been so ashamed at the Datsun's actions during the skirmish.

Jazz wasn't sure how long he could keep standing by the tactician on his own, but he was bound and determined to do it as long as he could.

After seeing how violent the Datsun was becoming, Prime had changed his mind.

He'd assigned Sideswipe, Tracks and Sunstreaker to alternately guard Prowl's door, no reprieves this time.

The yellow Lamborghini had spent most of his first shift threatening and taunting the silent Datsun through his door.

Jazz had come off duty and arrived just in time to hear Sunstreaker intrinsically detailing a threat.

It seemed to involve covertly handing a grievously injured black and white former second-in-command over to the Decepticons, to do with as they pleased.

Jazz had made a threat of his own, one that involved paint stripper, acid, and a paralysed but conscious yellow Lamborghini, if Sunstreaker didn't _shut the Pit up_.

Sunstreaker had been a very quiet sentry since, especially after Jazz reminded him that he was right next door.

The Porsche could be very intimidating when he wanted to be.

Sideswipe and Tracks weren't interested in making threats.

Sideswipe would make a cursory check to see if the Datsun was still with them, then simply carry out his shift and leave.

Tracks tried talking.

Not about anything significant, but even though he'd lost all respect for him, Tracks somehow felt that Prowl still deserved to hear another Autobot's voice.

Not that the Datsun acknowledged him.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz startled awake from a troubled recharge.

The resounding crash was heard again, originating in Prowl's quarters.

Jazz stumbled into the hall and to the tactician's door.

Tracks was quickly keying in the enter code.

"What's he doing now?" the big warrior asked anxiously.

"I don't know man, but it doesn't sound good," Jazz said grimly as the locks released.

"Tracks man, let me go in," the Porsche said to him quietly.

"I'll be fine," he added as the Corvette hesitated.

"Well, all right, but I'm going to inform Prime," Tracks said, stepped aside resignedly, and the saboteur cautiously entered Prowl's quarters.

"Oh man," Jazz exclaimed.

The room was totally trashed.

Prowl was seated on his recharge bed, back to the door and arms folded under his chest.

It was just about the only thing in his quarters still in one piece, probably because it took at least two Transformers to shift one of them.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked carefully.

The tactician did not respond.

Jazz slowly walked around so he was facing him, and started.

Energon trickled down Prowl's midsection, and Jazz realized he'd done a good job of injuring his hands at some point of his rampage, but it was his optics that shook the saboteur.

Flat, cold, and filled with icy fury.

A stranger's optics.

"Prowl, you have to go to the medbay, you can't stay like this," Jazz said softly.

"Please let me help you. I don't know what's going on with you, but you're still my friend,"

He hesitantly laid a hand on the Datsun's shoulder.

"Don't touch me," Prowl snapped, shrugging away and off his bed, past Jazz.

The saboteur watched helplessly as he stalked across the room, kicking broken pieces and shards of this and that out of his path.

He paused, back to the Porsche, fists clenched by his sides, and Jazz saw several drops of Energon fall to the floor.

Jazz cautiously stepped up behind him.

"Prowl man, let me take you to the medbay," he whispered.

"Leave me alone Jazz," Prowl snarled, slowly and deliberately.

"No, I _won't _leave you alone," Jazz snapped, his patience suddenly fraying like an old rope.

The tactician turned with ice in his optics, and Jazz refused to break visual contact.

The two black and white mechs stared at one another.

Jazz felt his Energon pounding through his lines, felt their friendship hanging by the thinnest of wires.

Prowl suddenly lunged and drove Jazz against his locker, door-panels drawn back until the tips almost met.

"You _will _leave me alone, if you know what's good for you," he hissed in a tone that made the saboteur shiver.

He let go of Jazz and stalked back to his recharge bed.

The saboteur's commlink chirped and he startled.

"_Jazz, report_," Prime clipped.

"Prime, Prowl's injured," Jazz said, uneasily eyeing the Autobot he used to think he knew as well as himself.

"_Is it life-threatening_?"  
"No Prime, but-"

"_Tracks and Sunstreaker are on their way. Are you all right_?"

Jazz glanced down at Prowl's Energon-stained handprints on his grille.

"I'm all right, but Prowl needs some medical attention quick-smart."

"_Fine. I'll notify Ratchet. Jazz...keep your distance. Prime out_."

Jazz cursed the Universe in general, then glanced at the silent Datsun.

"I don't know what you've done with my friend, but I sure do miss him," he said quietly.

He turned as Tracks entered the room, Sunstreaker in tow.

"C'mon man, you're not serious," Jazz pleaded as the Corvette pulled out a set of Energon shackles.

"Direct orders of Optimus Prime," Tracks said flatly.

They approached Prowl cautiously, and Sunstreaker pulled him roughly off his bunk to his feet.

The Datsun offered no resistance, and Jazz was grateful he still had enough common sense to do that.

The Lamborghini took the shackles from Tracks.

"You're going _down_, you filthy Pit-spawned scrapheap," Sunstreaker hissed in his audio.

He yanked the tactician's arms behind him, taking an obvious revengeful pleasure in making the handcuffing as prolonged and painful as possible.

"Slag you Sunstreaker," Jazz said with quiet fury, and roughly forced the warrior out of the way.

"Have you ever heard of a little thing called compassion," he snapped and indicated the dripping Energon as he gently, unwillingly, set the shackles in place.

Prowl stared stonily ahead and did not acknowledge pain, treatment or Autobots.

"You want compassion shown to _that_? You're crazier than he is," Sunstreaker snorted, pointing at the tactician.

"Be quiet Goldenrod, let's just get him to the medbay," Tracks threw at the Lamborghini, only wanting the whole thing to be over.

"I'm coming with you," Jazz declared as they hauled the Datsun into the hall.

"Jazz, for Primus' sake will you leave me alone!" Prowl snapped, turning on him.

Sunstreaker pulled him back.

"What're you all staring at?" Jazz couldn't help growling at the Autobots gathered in doorways and up and down the hall, silently watching the fiasco.

X  
X  
X  
X

As soon as they entered the medbay Prowl yanked free of the warriors.

Sunstreaker reacted instantly, latching onto the Datsun's still tender left door-panel with a curse.

"Sunstreaker, let him go!" Tracks exclaimed, clearly seeing how much pain that caused, even though Prowl didn't utter a sound.

Ratchet appeared as the Lamborghini put the Datsun against the wall.

"Sunstreaker, don't," Ratchet warned sharply, not wanting the tactician injured any further.

The warrior reluctantly backed off at the medical authority, giving Prowl a deadly glare.

"Get those things off him," Ratchet ordered, pointing at the shackles.

Prowl submitted long enough for Tracks to remove the restraints, then fronted the yellow warrior.

"Want to take it outside, Sunstreaker? I could still sit you on your aft, even like this," Prowl growled, offering Energon-smeared fists, and Tracks quickly put himself between the two.

"Out," Ratchet ordered, clapping a firm hand on the livid Lamborghini's shoulder and propelling him toward the door.

"Out, now, both of you. I'll be fine," he added at Tracks' uncertain look.

"And take these with you,"

Ratchet chucked the shackles to Sunstreaker.

He then turned to Prowl, who'd slid to the medbay floor, knees drawn to chest, staring at the medic with deep mistrust.

Ratchet shook his head, lost.

The quiet, unflappable, reliable, tactical genius had never, but _never_, displayed the slightest temper toward another Autobot, under any circumstance.

And Ratchet had never seen such fear in his optics.

He kneeled to the mech's level.

"Prowl, let me help you," he said calmly.

"Stay away from me!"

The medic studied Prowl for an astrotick, more concerned about the Energon dripping from his hands than his sudden Ratchetaphobia.

In any other case, with a patient acting this way, Ratchet would recommend having a friend nearby to provide some moral support.

Obviously Prowl did not consider the medic a friend any longer, and Ratchet doubted whether any other former friend would volunteer, apart from Jazz.

But the tactician clearly did not want any contact with the saboteur either.

The black and white mech laid his forearms on his knee-joints and buried his face in them, leaving his bleeding hands free.

Ratchet carefully reached for his right, but the instant Prowl felt his touch, skittered upright panickedly.

"Don't touch me! You bring pain, and you _enjoy _it!"

"Prowl...I've known you for several millennia now...poked and prodded and examined inside and out. I've always thought I've never known a more even-tempered or quiet mech, and it's killing me to see you like this," Ratchet said softly.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt you, or any Autobot,"

His keen medical sense was telling him the Datsun was clearly in pain and Ratchet desperately wanted to treat him.

Prowl leapt up suddenly and threw himself at the medbay doors, which Ratchet had foresightedly locked.

"Let me out! _Now_!"

"Slagging hell," Ratchet hissed to himself, wishing, not for the first time, that he had at least an assistant.

He got to his feet, and Prowl faced him, flattened against the doors.

"What are you going to do to me?" he whispered in terror, staring at the medic like he was a complete, and bloodthirsty, stranger.

"Primus Prowl. First and foremost, I'm not going to hurt you," Ratchet said gently, horribly concerned by this point, and not only by the tactician's mental state.

The black and white mech had laid his hands, palms down, either side of him, and Energon was running to the floor.

"Prowl, you're bleeding pretty badly. I can make it better," Ratchet said quietly, as though he were speaking to a child.

"And your door-panel hurts, doesn't it? I can fix that too,"

Prowl stared at him, but the medic couldn't read anything in his optics.

He suddenly faced the doors again, pawing at them frantically, flicking Energon over walls and floor.

"Let me OUT! You want to hurt me! They _all _want you to hurt me!"

Ratchet slipped up behind the panicked Datsun, and managed to lock his arms about his midsection, and hands around Prowl's wrists in a crossover hold.

Thus a struggle ensued.

"Let me go! Let me _go_!" Prowl cried, trying as hard as he could to free himself from the medic.

He kicked and flailed, upsetting instrument trays with his wayward feet, straining with his entire body and all his strength to get out of the medic's hold.

Ratchet used his superior size and weight to their full advantage, and struggled close enough to a wall communicator to activate it with his elbow.

"Optimus Prime to the medbay, ASAP!"

Ratchet set himself to just keeping a grip on the black and white mech, and it wasn't easy.

Even injured, Prowl's strength was nothing to scoff at.

Mercifully the commander showed up in seconds and managed to take over a hold on the Datsun.

The medic quickly dug out a rarely used medication, and with Optimus Prime's grip on Prowl, was able to administer the sedative.

Prowl fought it, struggling futilely in Optimus' hold but eventually lost consciousness.

Prime laid him on an exam bay so the medic could treat his injuries.

"Prime, why is he so afraid of me?" Ratchet asked, shaken and upset.

Optimus Prime rubbed his optics.

"Ratchet, I have no idea. But I'm sorry you had to go through this."


	6. Chapter 6

Note From The Author

Thank you very, very much to everyone who has reviewed my fic so far. Some of you have commented on the update speed, so I thought I'd tell you this fic is actually completed. I'm just posting the chapters as I see fit :) Again, thanks for the reviews, they mean a great deal to me. I hope you all enjoy the rest of Chameleon... PS: I'm loving everyone's various theories on what's up with Prowl, and the sympathy toward Jazz... PA

X  
X

"I had to sedate him," Ratchet informed Jazz tightly, "He'll be out for awhile."

The saboteur had shot to the medbay, after hearing about the carry-on through the Ark's lightspeed grapevine.

"Oh man," Jazz moaned to himself, gazing at the Datsun.

Unconscious, the tactician looked just the way he'd always known him.

"Ratchet...what's going to happen to him?"

The saboteur whispered, completely bewildered.

The medic hesitated.

What _would_ happen to Prowl if he continued behaving this way? Would Prime send him to Cybertron, to be placed in a lockup? If he was no longer an Autobot, would that make him fair game for the Decepticons...either as a target, or a new recruit?

Ratchet felt right down to his very essence that Prowl would _never_ betray the Autobot cause, no matter what his mental state.

But _why_ was he doing this?

"I don't know Jazz," he said.

Ratchet felt for the Porsche, plainly seeing his concern for his friend.

"Jazz...I really admire the way you're sticking by him," the medic said quietly.

Jazz turned to him.

"Man...I thought about it. If I were the one flipping out, I reckon Prowl'd stand by me too, no matter what. That's why I'm doing it," he said softly, settling into a seat next to the medbunk.

"And I bet he's not comfortable. Prowl sleeps on his side, curled up like a tekton manifold," Jazz added absently.

The Datsun was in the standard 'recovery' position: stretched out on his back.

Ratchet looked at Jazz sympathetically.

Only a good friend would know that.

The medic gave him a pat on the shoulder and left him to it.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz watched quietly as the Datsun gradually came back to himself.

Ratchet had explained that cerebral consciousness would come before physical.

Jazz had to admit that was probably a good thing.

Prowl's dulled optics slowly cleared and Jazz leaned close as the tactician mumbled.

"Prime..."

Jazz laid a hand on his arm.

"Prowl man, it's Jazz. Are you ok?"

Awareness now rapidly caught up to the Datsun.

"Let go of me," Prowl growled to the ceiling, still unable to move.

Jazz glanced up as Ratchet slowly approached the medbunk.

Prowl managed to shift his gaze to the medic.

"What have you done to me?" he whispered in pure terror.

Jazz slightly tightened his hold on the black forearm, wishing with all his soul that he could take the Datsun's causeless fear away.

"Prowl, no one's going to hurt you," Jazz said levelly, as reassuringly as he could manage.

"I had to sedate you Prowl," Ratchet told him gently, "It will start to wear off soon."

The fear in his patient's optics was heartbreaking.

He noted the automatic readings above the medbunk.

"About half an hour Prowl and you should be right," the medic told him, attempting a smile, extremely uncomfortable about being thought of as seriously threatening.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Jazz, he's not going to be able to hold this yet," Ratchet said quietly, indicating the serving of Energon in his hand.

The saboteur glanced at the still slightly-fuzzy Prowl, hands upturned and resting on the medbunk.

"Ratchet man, think he'll let me help him?" Jazz asked the medic in an undertone.

Ratchet sighed.

"Who knows Jazz,"

He handed it to the Porsche, and Jazz wandered back to the medbunk.

"Prowl man, Energon," Jazz said hesitantly, holding up the pink liquid in its receptacle, as the Datsun gave him a cold, unreadable stare.

"Uh, I'll have to help you, ok? Your hands aren't up to it,"

"Slag off!"

"Come on man, you must be feeling pretty empty by now," Jazz said softly.

The Datsun clenched his jaw and stared straight through him.

The saboteur looked at Ratchet helplessly.

"Prowl, you can either let us help you ingest this Energon, or I can knock you out again, stick tubing down your throat, and get it into you like that. Because you will have it one way or another," the medic spoke up calmly.

"You're trying to poison me aren't you!"

"Holy hexadynes," Jazz mumbled.

He swallowed a mouthful of the Energon while Prowl looked on panickedly.

"Tastes pretty good to me man," Jazz shrugged, holding it to the light.

He offered it again.

"Prowl, _please_," Jazz begged.

The Datsun didn't answer, but he didn't refuse either.

After a brief pause he began struggling to a sitting position.

Saboteur and medic left him severely alone, knowing help wouldn't be tolerated.

Once he was upright, Jazz warily helped him swallow some of the pink liquid.

Jazz glanced triumphantly over his shoulder at the medic, and Prowl chose that split second to spray an entire mouthful of warm Energon across the saboteur's chest and grille.

"Slag me dead," Ratchet said in complete disbelief, hands on cheeks.

Prowl dropped horizontal again, forearm over optics.

The medic glanced at the stupefied Jazz, Energon in hand and running down his front.

He dug up a cleaning cloth and handed it to the saboteur, who just stood there.

"Jazz!" Ratchet snapped his fingers in front of the Porsche.

"Sorry man," Jazz muttered, "I thought I was dreaming,"  
"It's no dream Jazz," the medic said dryly as the saboteur put the pink liquid down, and made a half-hearted attempt to clean himself up.

They glanced at the inert Datsun, then each other.

"Round Two, here I come," Jazz sighed, trying to get over the latest shocker from Prowl, and picked up the Energon again.

Prowl removed his arm and glared.

"Let me, Jazz," Ratchet said evenly, looking the Datsun in the optics, "If he does that to me, I'll do it back,"

"No! Get _away_!"  
"Ok, that's it!" Ratchet fumed, throwing his hands up.

"Jazz, get me the sedative that's in that medical bay," he said, pointing.

The medic fished the medbay's master key out of a subspace pocket and tossed it to the Porsche.

"Wait," Prowl said, low, as Jazz kneeled in front of the sealed storage bay.

Medic and saboteur paused.

"Give me the slagging stuff. Then leave me _alone_,"

"Fine Prowl," Ratchet said calmly.

Jazz handed over the warm Energon, and Ratchet slowly, gently, saw that it all went down.

"That better man?" Jazz asked as the medic resettled him.

"What's it to you?" Prowl growled.

Jazz wondered if he should answer, but didn't need to when Optimus Prime strode into the medbay.

"Jazz, Ratchet, let me speak to Prowl," he said flatly, without even inquiring as to his condition.

Weak though he still was, Prowl managed to sit up and fling the empty Energon receptacle at the commander.

Prime easily dodged, and the receptacle shattered on the opposite wall.

Optimus Prime silently folded his arms and coolly regarded the Datsun.

"You asked for him, Prowl," Jazz told him quietly.

"I did not, you lying rustheap,"

"I wouldn't lie to you Prowl," the saboteur said simply, and he and Ratchet left the medbay.

X  
X  
X  
X

The saboteur re-settled in his seat next to Prowl's medbunk.

The Datsun had unexpectedly fallen back into recharge, and Ratchet wouldn't allow him to be disturbed.

Optimus Prime had spoken to him privately, but wouldn't disclose much.

The only thing Prime had repeated -giving in to the saboteur's begging- had been a cryptic comment Prowl had made.

"It will be Primus, not Decepticons, who I go to from here."

Jazz prayed something would get through to his friend, before it was too late.

He watched Prowl, and it was clear from the manner in which he slept that he was distressed about something.

The Datsun twitched fitfully, muttering unintelligibly, not being still for an astrominute.

Jazz shook his head, wishing he could do something.

Prowl had always been a restless sleeper.

Jazz had discovered and learned to live with that long ago, having shared quarters and tiered bunks with the tactician in Iacon.

But Prowl's customary tossing and turning had nothing on his current resting attitude.

X  
X  
X  
X

Once he'd sufficiently recovered, Prime stunned everyone by putting Prowl back on duty.

Several Autobots had begun questioning the Datsun's very sanity after the medbay carry on.

Sideswipe had seized on his Primus remark, reinforcing his view on what was going through Prowl's CPU.

Jazz still just could not accept that as a possibility.

It scared him to think about.

The saboteur tried to keep Prowl in sight as much as possible, resolutely ignoring the verbal barbs, and most of the Ark's advice to keep away from him.

Jazz sighed, rubbed his head, and tried to concentrate on the control room monitor in front of him.

He sensed the room's tension level sharply rise as the Datsun stalked in and took up his post in between the Porsche and Ironhide.

"Hey man," Jazz said carefully.

Prowl gave him no acknowledgement.

Jazz tried to be optimistic.

Prowl wouldn't speak, but at least he was back where he belonged, on duty.

The monotonous monitoring shifts were boring however -to say the least- when not even shop talk was heard.

Jazz glanced at the silent Datsun, an island unto himself.

He would have given anything -_anything_- to hear Prowl state one of his thousands of paralyzingly boring snippets of Earth's historical data.

That's what he'd do when he and Jazz were both assigned 'computerized guard duty'

Of course, Jazz annoyed him back with TV jingles.

It was a long-running and good-natured battle.

_It used to be_, Jazz reminded himself sadly, concentrating on the monitors as they quietly asked for his attention.

The black and white mech leaned back in his seat, swinging it slowly left to right off his foot, hands clasped behind his head.

He ignored the monitors in front of him as they began cheeping.

Jazz, busy with his own screens, glanced at him once, twice, three times before speaking up.

"Prowl, check the area that Sky Spy is over," the saboteur said.

The Datsun made no move to do so. It was as if Jazz hadn't even spoken.

Jazz and Ironhide exchanged a glance behind him.

The Porsche leaned over and did it himself, noticing Optimus Prime looking in their direction.

"I'm surprised you saw that. Most of the time you wouldn't even know if your aft was on fire," Prowl said coolly to the ceiling, folding his arms under his chest.

"I know what a precautionary warning signal is," Jazz couldn't help snapping.

"You haven't got a slagging clue!" Prowl cursed, kicking his chair backwards as he suddenly stood up, bristling.

"Now you just settle down, you young hellion," Ironhide said, sharp.

He got up, gripped the black and white mech by the shoulders, and forced him to sit back down.

Prowl reacted the instant Ironhide let go, leaping up with a right hook that sent the big Autobot to the floor, Energon running from the corner of his optic.

The skeleton night crew gave a collective gasp.

Jazz scrambled out of his seat and dropped to his knees beside Ironhide, as the red mech managed a sitting position.

Energon ran in rivulets over his left cheek from his cracked optic.

"What in Primus' name are you thinking?"

Jazz burst out, staring at the Datsun in utter disbelief.

"I'm all right Jazz," Ironhide said, low, looking the door-panelled mech right in the optics as he got to his feet.

Prowl ignored him, instead watching Jazz's every move as he straightened, the way a tigress watches her prey before moving in for the kill.

"_Prowl_!" Optimus Prime thundered from across the room and began to stride over.

"Don't come near me," Prowl hissed, slowly and deliberately, door-panels drawn back, fists clenched, and nothing but cold fury in his optics.

"Autobots, stay where you are," Prime warned, pausing.

Jazz glanced quickly around the room, freeze-framing his comrade's reactions.

Bumblebee, looking like he was in the middle of a nightmare.

Hound, watching very warily.

Sideswipe, ready to tear Prowl's optics out.

Tracks, jaw almost scraping the floor.

Prowl suddenly launched himself at Optimus Prime, and Jazz pulled it together enough to tackle the tactician around the midsection, from behind.

Prowl tore himself free and spun around, executing an Autobot version of a roundhouse kick that sent the Porsche halfway across the room and onto the floor.

Prowl lunged, pinning the Porsche by the shoulders, one knee and shin over his thighs, and the latter stunned beyond belief as the livid Datsun shook him violently .

"Prowl!" Jazz gasped in pain and shock.

Prime gathered himself.

"Tracks! Sideswipe! Restrain him," he ordered.

The two warriors hesitated.

The Datsun positively radiated outright fury.

"_Now_," Optimus Prime rumbled.

They plunged in and wrestled the cursing mech off Jazz, taking all their combined effort just to keep him in check.

"Prowl, don't fight them," Jazz begged, knowing how rough the red Lamborghini could get at times...and was getting right now.

"Slag you! And them!" Prowl cursed, struggling madly against the bigger warriors.

The saboteur got up painfully, hands pressed to his midsection.

Jazz was certain he saw a flicker of emotion -though he couldn't be sure what kind- pass through the tactician's optics as he glanced briefly at the Energon seeping between the saboteur's fingers.

Tracks and Sideswipe somehow got a set of Energon shackles on Prowl, but it didn't stop him struggling.

Bumblebee slipped between Prime and Ironhide to front the Datsun.

"Prowl! _Please_ don't," the Minibot begged, "I know my old friend is in there somewhere listening to me. _Please _settle down,"

Miraculously, Prowl submitted, and stood still between his guards, staring at the floor, panting.

"Good job Bumblebee," Prime said quietly, laying a hand briefly on the Volkswagen's shoulder.

"Take him to the holding cells," he added.

Jazz snapped back to reality.

"Prime, no," he begged.

"I'm sorry Jazz," he said grimly.

"Hound, take him to the medbay," Prime added.

Jazz, stunned almost out of his senses, allowed himself to be led into the hall by the scout.


	7. Chapter 7

Hound steadied the shaky Porsche on their way to the medbay, furious.

The green mech was pretty even-tempered, but he'd had more than enough of Prowl's antics.

_How could he do this to his supposed closest friend, the one who keeps _defending _him?_

The Jeep thought savagely.

Jazz was vaguely aware that Hound was speaking, and saying something against the Datsun, judging by his tone.

But he was too busy replaying the instant Prowl had lunged at him.

"-should be hog-tied and handed over to Megatron,"

Jazz tuned in just in time to hear that.

"What did you say?" he demanded.

"I think you heard me Jazz," Hound said quietly.

"Man, how could you say that? I don't know what's going on, but Prowl's still my friend!"

"Yep, he's still your friend all right," Hound said, his tone heavy with loathing as he looked pointedly at Jazz's injured middle.

"Slag off then," Jazz snapped, jerking his shoulder away from the scout's hand.

"And I can go myself," he added as Hound opened his mouth to object.

X  
X  
X  
X

Ratchet did a double take as the Porsche wobbled in, both hands pressed to his bleeding midsection.

"Jazz! What in the Universe happened?" Ratchet exclaimed.

He helped the saboteur onto a medbunk.

"Prowl...he had a complete meltdown. Ratchet man, he decked Ironhide!"

"And what on Cybertron did he do to you?" the medic questioned.

He examined the Porsche's midsection, sliced open like a hunk of metallic meat, underlying circuitry exposed and steadily trickling Energon.

Jazz, with many uncharacteristic stops and starts, managed to recount what had just happened in the control room, and Ratchet saw how much it had shaken the saboteur.

He treated the Porsche and confined him to the medbay for the rest of the night, more to calm him down than anything else.

Jazz lay on the bunk, positively queasy with bewilderment and despair.

And the hollow, empty feeling that came from not having his closest friend around when he needed him.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prime had forbidden contact with the Datsun, but Jazz didn't care.

He slipped down, dodging several on-duty Autobots.

He'd recovered, at least emotionally, and was desperate to speak to Prowl, desperate for him to just open up.

_Man, he can't go any lower than this_, Jazz shuddered in despair, when he reached the narrow, rarely used underground wing.

The two facing rows of three, solid Energon-barred, holding cells were small but well-lit, and each contained a bench recessed into the volcano walls.

They weren't cruel, exactly, but Jazz certainly didn't want to see any of the Autobots, especially _this _Autobot, in them.

Prowl had been placed in the last cell on the left, and Jazz saw he was on his back on the bare bench, right forearm over his optics.

"Prowl."

Jazz crept to the cell as the tactician stood up.

He half-stepped into the shadowed corner the lighting missed in both end cells, arms folded and back to the saboteur.

"Man, you better start talking, while you still have a friend on your side," Jazz addressed his door-panels through the bars.

"Leave me alone," Prowl said quietly, "I'm sick of telling you,"

"And I'm sick of you doing whatever the Pit this is you're doing," Jazz said flatly.

He sighed.

"Look man, no one can work out what your problem is," Jazz said softly, "Including me. I wish you'd just tell me. You must know I'd do anything I could to help you Prowl,"  
The Datsun gave no acknowledgement.

"Buddy, I've been real lonely lately without you...it looks like I'm going to have to get used to that, aren't I?"

He watched the silent Prowl for a couple of astrominutes, but he didn't turn around or speak.

"Ironhide and the other guys would think I was crazy," Jazz said finally, "But I've got something here for you. My friend hated being idle even in his off hours."

Jazz slipped his hand between the solid bars and tossed it deftly on the cell's bench.

"I'm not sure when I'll be seeing you again man," Jazz said softly and left before he upset himself further.

Prowl listened to him go, then sat on the bench and picked up the saboteur's offering.

A bookfile, chock-full of several of the tactician's favourite books.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz trudged back to the Ark's main level.

A general "Good riddance" feeling was unspoken but tangible.

Jazz ignored a few glances, not caring if anyone realized where he'd been, and headed to his quarters.

He paused in Prowl's doorway for an astrotick, gazing at the chaos, recalling the night they'd sat up watching a black and white science fiction film festival.

By the third film, Prowl had been deep in Dry Sarcasm mode, and had Jazz literally rolling on the floor in hysterics with his comments, while he remained perfectly straight-faced.

Being yelled at by Ratchet for waking him in the wee hours had just added to the mirth.

That had only been a night or two before Prowl had become a complete stranger.

The saboteur quietly, sadly, closed the door.

Jazz went to his own quarters, settled painfully on his bunk and buried his head in his arms, hating the unnatural silence from next door.

"Life sucks," Jazz mumbled to his elbow joints and eventually fell into recharge.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz wandered to his quarters disconsolately.

It seemed everyone had deliberately forgotten about Prowl.

That made a part of Jazz angry, but another part fully understood.

You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.

Prime had been to speak to Prowl a few times, but never returned in a positive mood.

Jazz glanced around his quarters and sighed.

Coming off duty in the late afternoon was something he'd always disliked.

Maybe it was just that particular part of the day, but Jazz found it more boring than any other.

He looked around again, realizing dully there was nothing in the room that would make him feel any better.

Jazz just wanted to talk to Prowl.

He didn't know why, because the Datsun wouldn't even acknowledge him.

But he had to do it.

Jazz got down to the holding cells without being seen.

Prowl was still off-limits, and Prime couldn't even say when or if he'd be released.

Jazz quietly made his way to the end cell.

"Prowl?"

There was no answer, but Jazz hadn't expected one.

But what he'd never expected was _this_.

The cell was empty, its door ajar.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz refused to think the worst of Prowl as he dashed back to the Ark's main level.

Maybe Optimus Prime had moved him back to his quarters, or Ratchet might have found something in his scans...

Jazz burst into the control room and straight to Teletran-1, scattering the on duty Autobots like startled geese.

"Teletran, track down Prowl,"  
"Autobot Prowl is not in the Ark, and can no longer be traced from this location."

Jazz did a double take.

"Explain," he snapped.

"All identifying factors have been deleted,"

"Who by, for Primus' sake?"

"Autobot Prowl."

"How? When?" Jazz exclaimed.

He spun around without waiting for an answer and addressed the room.

"Prowl's gone! Where's Prime?"

"Optimus doesn't want to be disturbed," Ironhide informed him, "Under any circumstances."

"Then you do something man!"

Ironhide looked at him.

"Jazz...what can I do? Or anyone do?" he said softly.

The truth of his words hit home, but Jazz shook them off.

"I'm going to find him," the saboteur declared.

He transformed, setting all his sensors to scan for any trace of the Datsun, and took off into the dusk with a strong sense of deja vu.

Jazz cursed everything under the sun as he sped through the desert sand.

Particularly Prowl, and himself for not being able to get through the barriers the tactician had thrown up.

Jazz detected a faint line of dust streaming up from a canyon, and changed heading so quickly he nearly sent himself into a roll.

He hurtled off, scans confirming an Autobot emission signature.

Jazz braked violently at the lip of the narrow canyon.

He transformed and scrambled down, ignoring the pain in his midsection, and the scratches and scrapes he was collecting.

Once in the crevasse, he transformed back to alt mode.

It was too cramped for two vehicles to pass.

He desperately hoped the odds were that Prowl would stop, not plough into him.

Jazz switched his headlights on, maximum illumination, and braced himself as the Datsun tore up.


	8. Chapter 8

Prowl kept coming, even though Jazz knew his headlights were visible for a good long way.

"Jazz to Prowl, I'm not moving man! If you're bent on meeting Primus you're going to have to take me with you!"

Jazz had no idea if the Datsun received him, but he skidded to a stop at the last possible astrotick, rear bumper just brushing the Porsche's grille, and spraying him with grit.

Jazz didn't know if it was common sense or a shred of his old self that had caused the Datsun to brake, but he didn't care.

"Out of my way Jazz, _now_," Prowl snapped, reversing a few feet.

"No. I could take you out with my rifle and drag you back to the Ark unconscious, but there's no way in the Universe I'm doing that again Prowl.

Please, _please _just tell me what's going on. If...if we're going to lose you, I just want to know _why_."

Prowl transformed and turned his back on the Porsche, fists clenched by his sides.

"I just can't shake you, can I," Prowl whispered to himself.

The saboteur transformed and took one hesitant step toward the Datsun.

He could sense Prowl silently struggling within, and it was all Jazz could do to just stay where he was and not reach out to him.

Prowl glanced at the sky and passed a hand over his optics.

He turned and looked the Porsche in the visor.

"Jazz, I've been acting under Prime's orders," Prowl said quietly, "And it's been extremely difficult."

Jazz stared at him for an astrotick, then threw his arms around the Datsun.

'Oh man, I _knew _it wasn't you!" he babbled, clinging tight to his friend in pure relief.

Prowl reciprocated.

"Prowl man, you're ok then? There's nothing wrong?" the saboteur begged.

"Not a thing Jazz, apart from feeling extremely awful, and very guilty, about my behaviour, even though it was ordered so,"

The tactician let go of the Porsche.

"I've missed you Jazz," Prowl said quietly, with a slight smile.

"But I'm sorry about everything I said or did-"

"Forget it man, though I have to say, you're a damn good actor,"

"Jazz. You don't know how close I was to spilling everything after I, uh, "trashed" my quarters, when you still insisted on some gentleness with those shackles...after everything I'd done.

That's why I had to keep quiet...and then suggest to Prime that we concoct something to facilitate me being put in the holding cell. I couldn't stand to see how I was affecting everyone any longer...I'm so sorry about this Jazz," Prowl whispered painfully, hesitantly reaching a hand out to the saboteur's midsection and faltering.

"I was aiming for the backs of your knees...I didn't intend to cause any damage, but I've injured you badly-"

"Man, it's just a cut," Jazz lied, trying to reassure him.

"I know it's more than a cut, and if it wasn't such an impracticality right now, I'd make you do the same to me to make up for it," Prowl said seriously, gazing directly at his feet.

"Come on, forget it," Jazz said softly, tipping his chin up.

"It's been difficult," Prowl said quietly, "I've been having trouble recharging, and I know you have too...I could only manage a few astrominutes each cycle,"

"This whole time? No wonder you were out of it for so long in the medbay...but I guess that knockout jab you got helped," Jazz couldn't help chuckling.

"And you were there the entire time Jazz. I-"  
The saboteur held up his hand.

"Man, what are friends for?"

It came out with such ease and honesty...and that dazzling trademark grin.

"Jazz...thank you," Prowl whispered, with the slightest catch in his tone.

He suddenly recalled something else.

"Jazz, I am _so sorry_ about that Energon, that was a disgraceful and uncouth thing to do, and-"

Prowl paused in amazement as the Porsche _laughed_.

"Prowl man, that threw me more than anything else you did, you know? It wasn't the best thing that's ever happened to me, but it's not the worst either. Forget it."

Prowl shook his head and sat on a boulder.

He folded his arms and gave the Porsche his minimalistic smile.

"I can't get over how tolerant you are Jazz...and that's why I had such a hard time shaking you off. That's when the 'incidents' became more violent...and even harder to carry out,"

Jazz watched the Datsun briefly lay face in hands, and saw how hard the situation had been on him.

"Oh Prowl. Why didn't you just _tell _me? I could've played along-"

Prowl straightened and gazed past him.

"Jazz, it wouldn't have worked. When everyone watched me turn on you, my closest friend, and other Autobots I trust unconditionally...and Prime, who I'd lay down my life for..."

He trailed off and Jazz silently laid a hand on his shoulder.

Prowl paused and composed himself.

"I had to alienate everyone, so my leaving wouldn't seem suspicious or out of character."  
Prowl looked at Jazz.

"But that seems to have been an impossibility with you Jazz," he said softly.

"Man, there is nothing you could ever say or do that would dissolve our friendship, do you hear me?"

"I realize that," Prowl said quietly, with a slight smile, "And believe me, that's something I'll always hang onto, especially now."

"I'm happy to hear it Prowl...you're like a brother to me man," Jazz added softly.

The tactician was touched to his transistors at that, and it showed.

He sighed.

"I wish I hadn't had to do it this way. It was mainly for the Decepticons' benefit. If there were any spies about, it had to be completely plausible-"

Prowl stopped mid-sentence.

"Sorry Jazz," he barely whispered, and a split astrosecond later leapt up and landed a heavy blow on the unprepared saboteur's chin, sending him against the wall of the canyon.

Prowl lunged, pinning Jazz, and hissed, "Hit me back, _now_,"

Jazz caught on instantly.

Prowl had obviously detected an enemy spy or spies.

He tore himself out of the Datsun's grip and tackled him around the midsection.

Jazz drove him against the opposite rock wall, forcing himself to keep it real, but trying hard not to hurt him.

"Gutless wonder!" Jazz spat, "You don't deserve to be an Autobot!"

Prowl forced the saboteur back, trying just as desperately not to injure him any further.

As he did so, Jazz caught sight of the despised tin-foil turkey Laserbeak, openly gathering footage of them from a rocky overhang.

"He's just arrived," Prowl managed to mutter, "So keep it real,"

Jazz didn't dare risk answering him, instead he swept the tactician's feet from under him and put him on his back in the sand.

Prowl managed to pull the saboteur down with him, and as they tussled, hissed, "Jazz, we're being too quiet. Think up some more insults quick!"

"Oh man," Jazz muttered.

"I...I wish I'd taken you apart instead of just stunning you, traitor!"

"Autobot scum! I hope Megatron blows the Ark and everyone in it sky-high!" Prowl cursed loudly.

Jazz stumbled to his feet, dragged Prowl up, pulled his hands behind him and pushed him front-first against the rock wall.

"Man you ok?" he whispered quickly.

"Fine Jazz. Keep it up,"

Prowl struggled, Jazz raised a knee and leaned into the tactician's back as he freed a hand to pull out his rifle.

"Optimus Prime will probably thank me for this!" Jazz said, loud and clear.

Prowl suddenly forced himself backward, sending Jazz onto his aft, and yanked out his own rifle as the saboteur scrambled to his feet.

They circled one another, fifteen feet apart, knowing the target was Laserbeak.

At the moment the Casseticon rose and circled for a better angle, taking up a precarious perch on an unstable overhang.

Two lots of Autobot firepower at that would likely result in two flattened mechs.

_Quick change of plan_, Jazz read in Prowl's slight shift of door-panel position.

He stepped up close to the Porsche.

Prowl reached for his chest, and tore off the red insignia.

"Take this to Optimus Prime, you Autobot lackey," the tactician spat, flinging the symbol at the bigger mech.

tactician and saboteur held each other's icy glare for what felt like an eternity.

They finally caught a slight sound from above, and dared to turn their heads as the mechanical stool pigeon winged off, sending a handful of loose cliff face skittering down.

"Oh man," Jazz muttered.

He backed up a couple of unsteady steps and sat on a boulder, one hand across his midsection, head in the other, hoping his optics would stop fritzing soon.

Prowl had a mean punch.

The tactician kneeled in front of him, slightly off-balance and with a king-size headache of his own.

"Primus Jazz, I'm so sorry. It was the first thing that came to mind," he said ruefully, gently examining the Porsche's chin.

Jazz raised his head and grinned at him.

"Old Laserbeak wouldn't have bought it any other way man. But holy hexadynes, that improv stuff is hard!"

Prowl realized Jazz was going to live.

He got to his feet, forced to steady himself with a hand on the saboteur's shoulder.

Jazz had a hefty punch too.

"What about you man, you ok?" Jazz asked.

"I'll be fine. Jazz, listen to me. Go straight to Prime and tell him what you know. You _cannot _let on to anyone else that this was all a ruse.

It could put every Autobot in danger if the Decepticons were to get word of it,"

Jazz heard the urgency in the Datsun's tone.

"Man, where are you going? What's this all about?"

"Jazz, I have to get to Cybertron,"

The saboteur did a double take.

"_Cybertron_? Why? On your own?"

"Yes,"

"Prowl, tell me what's going on, and I'll come with you," he said quickly, "You can't-"

"Jazz, no," Prowl cut in firmly.

"Why man? You're going to need help, surely," Jazz said desperately.

Prowl glanced away for an astrotick.

"I'd like nothing more than to explain what's going on, but I'm under orders. I've already said too much, and I just hope I haven't placed you in jeopardy by doing so,"

Prowl looked at him.

"You know I hate to do this at the best of times, and I'm sorry. I'm giving you a direct order: don't try to follow me Jazz. I know you want to help, and I greatly appreciate it, but _please_, just get back to the Ark and to Prime."

Prowl glanced at the rapidly descending twilight.

"I have to go," he said softly, "Everything has been pre-arranged and I need to reach the spacebridge by nightfall,"

"Prowl...be careful," Jazz pleaded, gingerly standing up, "Are you _sure _there's no other way..."

"I have to do this Jazz, it could mean all our lives," Prowl said steadily.

"Thanks for not giving up on me," he added with a hint of a smile, offering a parting handshake.

Jazz grasped the white hand, then tugged him into a back-slap embrace.

"See you when you get back man," Jazz intoned, then let go of him.

"Will do Jazz."  
Prowl transformed and took off, keeping to the darkest side of the narrow canyon.

Jazz watched him go, then bent down a little painfully and collected the Autobot insignia.

He flicked desert sand off and subspaced it.

Jazz transformed and ripped back to the Ark, feeling like one weight had been replaced by another.

Prowl was back, but now he was in a perilous situation...and Jazz couldn't help him.

X  
X  
X  
X

The Porsche powered along one of the lesser-used tracks the Autobots had worn into the desert landscape.

He reviewed his conversation with Prowl, grateful that he'd been able to speak to him.

Jazz tried to think how to not let the turbo-fox out of the subspace pocket, so to speak, with the rest of the Autobots.

The saboteur tried to imagine how in the Universe he'd be able to defend Prowl's "desertion" to them.

Jazz was also being eaten alive with curiosity concerning the tactician's mission.

And with worry.

With all that chasing around in his CPU, he didn't pay attention to scanners, or an incoming transmission.

Nor did he notice the oncoming dust cloud, and nearly collected the Ark's resident spy in a small dip.

The Ligier swerved around him, hit the brakes, and came to a standstill after an almost two hundred and seventy degree slide.

Jazz came to a screeching halt, transformed, and dashed back.

"Primus sorry 'Raj man! Are you ok?"

"Not a scratch Jazz...but could you answer your radio next time? Or at least turn your headlights on?"  
"Were you hailing me? Sorry man,"

"Yes. Prime sent me after you once he found out where you'd gone,"

Mirage transformed and Jazz was relieved to see everything still worked.

"Jazz! What happened?" Mirage exclaimed, gazing at the saboteur's damaged chin.

"What? Oh...um, I tried to stop Prowl," he said carefully, "Bad move."

"I still can't believe he'd do that to anyone, let alone you,"

"Well, he did worse," Jazz said flatly, throwing himself into perpetuating the anti-Prowl sentiments, thumbing his midsection.

Mirage glanced around uneasily.

"Um...where _is_ Prowl?" he asked warily.

_Oh man, here it comes. Jazz's acting debut, _the saboteur said to himself, _Break a leg_.

"Prowl's gone," he said expressionlessly.

"Gone! Where?"

"Mirage, I wouldn't have a clue,"

Jazz watched the Ligier take that in, hoping madly he'd been convincing.

Mirage looked shell-shocked.

Not really surprising, considering how level-headed Prowl "used" to be.

"I can't believe it," the spy murmured, after several silent astroseconds.

Jazz quickly followed up the advantage.

"C'mon 'Raj man. Let's go home," Jazz said defeatedly, and transformed.

X  
X  
X  
X

The entire Ark was buzzing with the news.

While only a handful of Autobots were openly verbal about being happy to see Prowl gone, Jazz noticed few were actually disagreeing with them.

The Porsche realized he'd been the only one to even consider going after the Datsun.

Several Autobots tackled him the moment he and Mirage set treads in the Ark, wanting to know what had occurred, where Prowl had gone, why Jazz hadn't simply dragged him back.

Jazz transformed and erupted.

"If you're all so slagging concerned, why didn't you come with me when I left! Prowl's gone, simple as that! And I have no idea what might happen to him!"

The last sentence slipped out before he could stop it.

And slipped out very shakily.

"I'm not listening to this," he snapped, and exited quickly.

Jazz went directly to Optimus Prime's office.

The commander answered the urgent knock, and one look was all he needed.

"You know," he said softly.


	9. Chapter 9

In the privacy of the commander's office, Jazz let loose with his relief and worry.

"I was worried this would happen," Prime sighed, leaning back in his seat.

"Prowl tried hard to lose everyone's trust,"  
"And did an excellent job Prime," Jazz pointed out, "I haven't heard one Autobot say they were sorry he's gone."

Optimus Prime leaned forward and looked him in the optics.

"Jazz, it is _vital_ that you keep this to yourself," he said, low, "No Decepticon can know that Prowl went to Cybertron, or that this was all a setup,"

Jazz nodded.

"Prowl said the same thing Prime...and he refused to let me go with him."

"The plan does not cover two Autobots Jazz," Prime said gently, laying a hand on the saboteur's forearm.

"Elita-One and the other females are heavily involved in this. They are the ones who discovered the situation. They have everything covered on their end. When Prowl returns I will inform everybody of what's going on. But until then, he has simply left the Ark on bad terms, understood?"

"Yes Prime. I don't think that will be hard to keep instigated anyway," the Porsche said disconsolately, thinking of the negative, to put it lightly, attitude most of the Autobots were feeling toward the 'former' second in command.

"Prime...how did you know no one would do him in..." Jazz trailed off.

"I didn't," the Autobot commander said softly, sending a chill through the Porsche.

"Man, that was a big chance," Jazz muttered to himself, glad he'd listened to his intuition in defending Prowl.

"Jazz, you know what a tight grip Prowl keeps on his wits. Elita and I knew he had to be the one."

"Prime...how did he react?" Jazz asked softly.

Prime steepled his fingers.

"Prowl is Prowl, Jazz. He listened. Then he looked at me calmly and said,

'Prime, the needs of the many override the needs of the few, or the one. It's logical. When do I leave?'"

"That's our tactician all right," Jazz grunted, "He would've had a fit if you wanted to send anyone else, but because it was himself he made it sound like a picnic."

Jazz knew how hard it must have been on Prime, to put one of his Autobots -and his friend- in mortal danger.

Prime chuckled weakly.

"When I received the first transmission from Elita and learned what they'd discovered, I was set to tell you _all _and formulate a plan.

But Elita pointed out the severity of the situation.

It called for stealth, not machismo," Optimus explained.

"Elita and I discussed the possibility of myself being the one to go, but that would have drawn Decepticon attention straight away.

We formulated the idea of an Autobot gradually turning on everyone, up to the point where he wouldn't be missed, when he suddenly "went AWOL" at the crucial time,"

Prime sighed.

"The thing was, none of us could have just picked up and made our way to Cybertron without making the Decepticons suspicious. You know they have audios and optics everywhere...we're lucky to go a week without someone spotting Ravage or Laserbeak in or around the Ark. We had to keep it as real as possible, in case of spies,"

"Tell me about it," Jazz said wryly, gingerly touching his jaw.

"What happened?"  
The saboteur explained about Laserbeak, and his and Prowl's "altercation".

"That was perfect; just what we needed the Decepticons to see," Optimus Prime said, almost to himself.

"Prime, this is making me crazy. What's going _on_? Why did you send Prowl to Cybertron?"

Prime gave a short humourless chuckle.

"Prowl begged me to let you in on this Jazz, he said he wouldn't be able to drive you away.

I thought about it long and hard, discussed it with Elita, and we decided that the fewer Autobots who were in the know the better, the less chance of Megatron getting word of it,"

He looked at the saboteur.

"Prime, _please_," Jazz pleaded, "I just want to know what it is Prowl's risking his casing for,"

The Autobot commander gazed at him.

"Jazz, Prowl's risking his casing to ensure the safety of all the rest of our casings, here and on our home planet."

Optimus Prime explained exactly how and why.

"Oh man," Jazz whispered in shock. "No wonder Prowl was so adamant about getting to Cybertron,"

"Jazz, Elita and Chromia have everything under control," Prime said, trying to reassure himself as much as the Porsche.

"So...all he needs to do is get to Cybertron over the space bridge, meet Elita-One and the other females, and get back here," Jazz said slowly.

"It may be a little more difficult now Jazz," Optimus Prime said quietly.

The saboteur looked at him.

Prime sighed.

"The other day, when you caught up to Prowl in the desert and brought him back here, was when we had planned for him to get to Cybertron.

Elita and the other females had arranged a diversion to get Shockwave out of the way, so that no Decepticon could know Prowl had met with them,"

"Oh no..." Jazz realized, "And the firefight..."  
Prime nodded silently.  
"So he could get to the spacebridge," Jazz finished up flatly.

"Oh man, I really messed things up. No _wonder _Prowl tried so hard to distance himself from everyone. It just took one fool wing-nut to screw everything up!"

"Jazz, Jazz, settle down. If anything, I admire the way you kept sticking by Prowl. His intuition proved correct: he couldn't push you away...and it got to the stage where he _begged _me to keep you away from him,"

"But I wouldn't stay away from him," Jazz said slowly, pieces falling into place.

"Ironhide told us what Prowl'd said to him..."without even the decency to say it to my face"...oh man. This must have just about killed him Prime," the saboteur realized out loud.

"You're right about that Jazz," Optimus Prime said softly, "It upset him very much.

The first night Prowl was in the cell and I went down to give him an update, I was certain he was going to go to pieces then and there.

I couldn't go over anything with him, he was so upset about hurting you and Ironhide.

'Prime, look at this. After everything I've done, Jazz still put this bookfile together for me,'

That was all he could say, and barely managed to get that out,"

Optimus Prime sighed again, long and loud, and ran a hand over his optics.

"Maybe I was wrong to place all this solely and squarely in Prowl's hands Jazz."

The saboteur suddenly realized just how stressful this was to the Autobot commander.

He tended to forget sometimes that Optimus Prime was mortal too.

"Prime, you know Prowl loves a challenge," Jazz said, trying to smile.

The commander continued studying the slab of polished obsidian that served as a desk top.

The Porsche watched him for an astrosecond, then a new question jumped into his CPU.

"How did you contact Cybertron without Megatron or Shockwave picking up the transmissions?"

Optimus Prime perked up a little.

"We've been bouncing transmissions off an Earth interplanetary satellite. There's an eleven-minute window of opportunity every thirty-eight hours,"

"You planned this with just eleven minutes every day and a half?" Jazz questioned, surprised and impressed.

"Yes. And that's part of the reason Prowl had to behave the way he did for so long," Prime said.

"And the rest was trying to get certain Autobots off his back," Jazz said dryly.

"Well...yes," the commander admitted.

"Man. This is just unreal," Jazz mumbled, getting up to pace.

"Jazz, we can't do anything else until I receive the next transmission. Go and get some rest," Prime said firmly.

The saboteur agreed half-heartedly, then turned back, one burning thought in mind.

"That day in his quarters...I could _see _someone getting hurt Prime!

What if that rifle of his had fired?"

Optimus Prime silently pulled out and handed him Prowl's spare rifle.

Jazz looked it over, and discovered it was completely powerless and empty of all acid pellets.

"Prowl point-blank refused to aim a loaded weapon at another Autobot,"

Prime said calmly, "I just had to remember to give him back the operational one," he added with a slight chuckle.

"I should have known," Jazz shook his head, wondering how he could have ever believed that Prowl would knowingly and willingly put an Autobot in harm's way.

Prime must have known what he was thinking.

"He really played the part, didn't he Jazz," the commander said softly.

"Man, you have no idea."

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz paused in his neighbour's doorway, gazing around at the mess.

Now that he looked closely, he realized that everything the tactician had destroyed had pretty much been just junk to start with.

_You really did plan it down to the finest detail didn't you man_, Jazz thought to himself, _No one would think to look closely at the time, so it didn't matter_.

He stepped into the room, and saw without surprise that there was a fairly large amount of dried Energon spattered around.

Jazz slowly began picking up his absent friend's quarters, desperately hoping he'd be using it again.

A shadow fell across the open doorway.

"What are you doing that for Jazz?" Tracks sniffed.

Jazz glanced up at the Corvette and wished he could tell him.

Tracks had always held the tactician in high regard.

His level of respect was somewhere near subterranean depths right now though.

"I don't know Tracks...just didn't seem right to leave it like this," Jazz said, sitting back on his haunches.

He found it wasn't hard to sound depressed, given Prowl's current situation.

Tracks softened at his tone.

"This must be so hard on you Jazz," he said quietly, "We've all lost a friend, but the way he treated you-"

Jazz stood up, a piece of jagged, shattered computer console still in hand.

"It was hard man," he said simply.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl caught a brief glimpse of the planet as the space bridge cascaded to Cybertron.

The Quantum Trick Road, it had been christened.

Only a handful of Autobots truly understood the astrophysics behind it.

The tactician was one of them, but did not allow himself to dwell on that just now.

Prowl pressed back to wall, drew his rifle, and waited.

When a handful of astroseconds had passed without incident, he cautiously stepped out of the transporter module, fully alert, and glanced around.

The control room was deserted, but the screens and controls flashing and chirping for attention, told him someone -most likely Shockwave- had departed in a sudden rush.

Prowl silently thanked Elita-One and her troops for their efficiency.

He quickly slipped out of the structure and stood for a few ticks, adjusting to Cybertron's gravity, slightly weaker than Earth's.

He looked around.

Dim, half-destroyed, depleted of resources, empty of civilians and under Decepticon rule.

But it was still home.

Prowl identified several structures, pinpointed those missing through destruction, and looked forward to the day Cybertron could be rebuilt and its people free once more.

The tactician spent little more than a few astroseconds on his thoughts before transforming.

He kept to the shadows and made for the rendezvous point.


	10. Chapter 10

Mirage handed Jazz a serving of Energon, and the saboteur thanked him.

"You too Tracks man," Jazz added.

The blue mechs had taken pity on the Porsche, and invited him to their shared quarters to watch some of Jazz's favourite video clips.

What they'd actually ended up doing was commiserating together.

Mirage settled cross-legged at the head of his bunk, Tracks at the foot, and Jazz leaning against the wall in the middle.

"You don't think it's possible that Prowl may actually be gone for good, do you?" Tracks asked uncertainly.

"No way man," Jazz burst without thinking, then caught himself.

"I hope not, anyway."

"Me too Jazz," Mirage said quietly, briefly laying a hand on the Porsche's shoulder.

"Maybe he just had to get away from everyone for awhile," the Ligier added.

"Yeah, maybe," Jazz mumbled, staring at his Energon and trying to sound convincing.

He hoped they wouldn't somehow stumble on the truth, because he wouldn't be able to pretend otherwise.

They sat quietly for a while, absently gazing at the tv.

"Uh, thanks for the company guys, but I think I'm off to bed," Jazz said eventually, keen to be alone for awhile.

He pulled himself gingerly off Mirage's bunk, purposely babying his midsection a little more than necessary.

"Well, I'm glad I've still got you two as neighbours," Jazz tried to grin.

His quarters were between Prowl's and theirs.

"Good night Jazz,"  
"'Night. Thanks guys."

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz settled on his bunk, dead tired physically, but emotionally overwrought.

He was rapidly growing increasingly impatient, wanting to know that Prowl had reached the female Autobots safely and undetected.

"Stupid temperamental spacebridge," he muttered, thinking of the time Prime, Inferno, Smokescreen, Perceptor and Bumblebee had been sent to Aron's part of the galaxy.

However, the relay satellite wouldn't be in range again for several hours.

Jazz swore silently.

He turned onto his front and slid his hand under the bunk's head-rest.

He made contact with something smooth and flat, sat up, and pulled it out.

A handwritten note, left on a small datapadd.

_Jazz, I can't explain at this time the reason for my recent behaviour, so I hope you can just trust me for now._

_I could not leave without thanking you for standing by me the past few weeks, and without heartfelt apologies for everything I've said and done to you and our friends._

_Every action has a purpose, and the reason for my actions will soon become clear, whether or not I return._

_Thank you now and always for your friendship Jazz._

_You will always be my friend, don't forget that._

_Prowl_

"Slagging softie," Jazz cursed under his vocalizer, slightly shakily.

Prowl may not physically emote, but let him put it into writing...

"And what do you mean, _whether or not I return_? Damn you Prowl. You'll wanna get your aft back here in one piece. I don't want to be the one telling everybody you were acting the fool so you could go flitting off to Cybertron to _save _all our chassis," Jazz mumbled, staring at his friend's impossibly neat handwriting.

His gaze fell on something that must have fallen from underneath the datapadd.

He picked the datachip off his bed, slipped it into the datapadd, and activated it.

Wheeljack's formula, meticulously copied.

Jazz realized Prowl had carefully highlighted some equations he'd obviously found anomalous, and added his own.

Just as he'd been asked.

Jazz couldn't wait to see Wheeljack's reaction when he got that back.

He reread the note and buried his face in his headrest, datapadd in hand.

_Prowl man, _please _come back in one piece._

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl quietly pulled into the meeting place: what used to be one of Cybertron's busy Squares; a marketplace for selling, buying and trading.

He transformed, concealed himself in the entrance of an abandoned residence, and waited.

He'd seen no Decepticons so far, but was taking no chances.

Prowl briefly wondered how the Autobots were reacting to his absence, and decided it wouldn't be pretty.

He hoped Jazz wasn't having too hard a time with it all.

Prowl shook his head.

He felt _awful_ about his recent behaviour.

He wanted desperately to apologize to each and every Autobot, but the drive of this challenging mission pushed all that into the background for the time being.

Sort of.

A slight sound made him snap to attention.

If there was anyone around, Prowl was determined to keep them away from the female Autobots.

Their new headquarters had not yet been discovered, and had to be kept that way...especially now.

Prowl once again drew his rifle, and sprang out of the shadows.

And was tackled without warning.

"Prowl, it's so good to see you," Moonracer exclaimed, hugging the black and white mech as Firestar did the same.

They released the somewhat embarrassed tactician.

"I'm happy to see you too, but maybe we should try to be less conspicuous?"

Prowl suggested, gesturing to the open square and unshadowed area they were in.

"You haven't changed a bit," Firestar declared as they drew back into cover, "Always the strategist."

"That's what I get paid to do," he said lightly, and they stared at him.

"That was a joke," Prowl informed them.

Moonracer laughed.

"You've still got that dry sense of humour. How is everyone?"

"Belligerent," Prowl said wryly.

"It must've been hard Prowl," Firestar said softly.

"Yes...well. We should get to your headquarters before we're discovered."

He transformed, and the females did a double take at his unfamiliar and handsome alt mode.

Firestar's jaw dropped.

"If that's what you got on Earth, I wish I'd been on the Ark with you," she said, impressed.

She and Moonracer transformed and the three of them slipped back to the females' base.

X  
X  
X  
X

Chromia and the female commander met them as they returned.

"Elita-One," Prowl transformed and greeted respectfully, inclining his head.

"Welcome Prowl," she said warmly.

"Your time on Earth hasn't changed you, young one," she said with a hint of approval and amusement as he straightened up.

"None of the Autobots know that you're here, am I right?"

"No, Elita-One, that's not right," Prowl said quietly, "I...uh...I told Jazz. I apologize for disobeying your orders-"  
The female commander held up her hand.

"Do not apologize Prowl. I cannot imagine what you had to go through to remain credible. And Jazz is hard to ignore," she said with a slight smile.

"It always surprised me how well the two of you used to get along."

"I don't know what I'd do without him," Prowl admitted frankly.

Chromia smiled at him.

"He probably says the same Prowl,"

The tactician gazed around their under surface base, impressed.

"We're doing everything we can to get Cybertron back," Elita said softly, watching him.

"I wish we could be of more help Elita," Prowl said quietly, turning back to her.

"Prowl, you're all defending Earth and its people," Chromia said,

"And providing us with Energon cubes, a huge help," Firestar added.

The Autobots managed to send several shipments over the spacebridge each month, under cover of desert darkness.

The black and white mech sighed and folded his arms.

Elita noted the wilted door-panels.

"Girls, show Prowl to the resting quarters,"

"I'm not tired," he tried to convince her.

"Prowl, you're talking to a female now. We know you mechs better than you know yourselves," she told him, "Now go to bed. I'll make it an order if I have to,"

Prowl settled on the borrowed bunk under protest, but was in recharge even before the females left the room.

"I don't think I could do what Prowl had to do," Chromia said quietly, and they glanced at the offline mech.

"You know Prowl was always the one with the cast-iron manifolds, for all his quiet ways," Firestar reminded them.

"I miss the mechs. All of them," Moonracer sighed.

"Come on, let him rest," Chromia said, and they left him in peace.

Prowl could not be kept down for long however, and was back on his feet less than two Earth hours later.

The female Autobots were keen to hear how Elita's plan had been carried out, and entreated the tactician to fill them in over Energon.

Prowl hesitated.

"There's a much more pressing matter at hand," he said, glancing at Elita-One.

The female commander gave him her serene smile.

"We are awaiting a computer analysis Prowl. Go ahead,"

"Now _tell_!" Moonracer exclaimed, once they were settled in what passed as their lounge/mess/rec area.

Prowl absently saw how lucky the Earth Autobots were; the Ark wasn't luxurious, but it comfortably housed them all, and they had all the planet as a 'backyard'

The females couldn't set foot outside their base without endangering it and themselves.

And he realized he'd missed the female Autobots' company.

"Holy hexadynes," Prowl said, borrowing Jazz's favourite expression, "Where do I start?"

He recounted some of the more painful incidents.

"I won't ask what the hardest part was Prowl -the whole scenario must've been agonizing- but what's one thing that you thought was difficult to act out?" Chromia asked.

Prowl didn't even have to stop to think about that one.

"When Prime ordered me to show up late, and as if I'd been over-energizing the night before...that was _very _difficult," he said with a slight smile.

"Sounds like Jazz was impossible to get rid of, if _you_ caved in and told him it was setup," Firestar mused, and Prowl nodded.

"There were several Autobots I just couldn't shake -up to a point- but Jazz was more than impossible. That's why everything I was doing kept getting worse...and even then Jazz wouldn't walk away from me."

"He's one of a kind," Moonracer said softly.

"That he is," Prowl agreed with conviction, sipping the warm liquid. He'd forgotten how smooth Cybertronian Energon was.

"He must have derailed your plans a few times Prowl," Chromia said with a laugh.

"You have no idea. One of the worst was when he stopped me in the desert, the evening I was originally meant to get to the spacebridge."  
"What happened?" Firestar asked.

"Jazz managed to catch me, literally, and was set on taking me back to the Ark. That really threw me. If I'd been able to outrun him, he still would have seen me enter the spacebridge, which would have raised too many questions. If I'd stunned him unconsciousness -which I know I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to do anyway- there was always a chance the Decepticons would find him before the Autobots," Prowl shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

"It was just as well Optimus contacted Jazz when he did. When Prime told him to bring me back, I knew we'd have to postpone. That was unplanned and unexpected. Things got a little out of hand."

"What did you do?" Moonracer asked eagerly.

"I, um, "trashed" my quarters at one point. I actually injured Ironhide. I gave poor Ratchet a night he probably won't forget,"  
"Oh Primus Prowl, what went on?" Chromia said with a smile, "What did you do to Doc Miracle?"  
Prowl explained.

"How I would have loved to see that," Chromia laughed, long and loud.

"Prowl, master strategist, considered silly as a wheel!"

Prowl folded his arms with a wry smile.

"I can practically guarantee there are Autobots questioning my sanity as we speak."

X  
X  
X  
X

"He's crazy," Sunstreaker stated flatly.

Optimus Prime had tried to keep Prowl's "desertion" as low-key as possible, encouraging business as usual.

But naturally an event like that was so out of the ordinary, and something that had never happened to the Autobots before.

It was all anyone could talk about, on duty or off.

"Sunstreaker man, you can't say that, not until you're really sure what was going through his CPU," Jazz said softly.

The warrior snorted.

"What was going through his CPU? Not much Jazz, obviously!"

The saboteur didn't have the patience or strength at the moment to argue the Lamborghini down.

Jazz sighed and glanced around the lively common room as Sunstreaker stalked out.

Wheeljack was seated across the table from him, _still _trying to re-calculate his formula, and the Porsche ached to hand over the intact datachip.

"Any luck Wheeljack?" Jazz asked him.

"No," the engineer replied shortly, without looking up.

_Ouch_, Jazz said to himself, wondering if he could talk the Lancia into giving it up for awhile.

Wheeljack could be just as stubborn as Prowl in his own way sometimes.

Jazz looked around and spotted Bluestreak as he wandered in.

The gunner sat next to Wheeljack and heaved a world-weary sigh.

Jazz shook himself off and attempted a smile.

"Hey Bluestreak. What's happening man?"

The gunner looked at him.

"Prowl was teaching me to play TechChess," he said forlornly, folding his arms on the table and resting his chin on them.

Prowl was a Grand Master of the Cybertronian game of logic, and loved teaching it as much as playing it.

"I can give you a couple of rounds if you like," Jazz offered, "I'm not as good as Prowl, but-"

"It's not the game Jazz. Prowl...Prowl would _talk _to me while we played. Not about our duties, or the war, or anything like that, just -stuff. He's always so quiet, you could never tell what was going through his head,"  
The saboteur listened silently.

Bluestreak sighed and sat up.

"It's different for you Jazz. You're his best friend. I mean, were his best friend, uh, well, you probably still are, but, um-"

"It's all right Bluestreak, I know what you mean,"

"Yeah," the silver Datsun agreed gratefully, "Jazz, I've always looked up to him, and I know Prowl keeps an optic on me, but I never thought that he considered me a _friend_ friend...just the klutzy kid who needed watching. But those conversations Jazz...Prowl told me about his old home on Cybertron, his creator...things like that,"  
The gunner looked at him mournfully.

"Stuff you'd tell a _friend _about. Jazz?"  
"Yeah?"

"Do you think I might have done something to make Prowl-"

"Oh man. Bluestreak, no," Jazz cut in firmly, "I thought that too about me, but I don't think it has anything to do with any of us, ok?"

"I just can't work out what he was _thinking_," Wheeljack muttered, returning from his own plane of reality.

Jazz leaned over and slowly pulled the datapadd out of his grip.

"Give it a rest man,"

Wheeljack sighed and rested his head on his hand, elbow on table, idly tapping an empty Energon receptacle with his other hand.

"That energy collector would be operational by now," he said despondently, but without rancour, Jazz noted.

"I'm sorry Wheeljack," Jazz said quietly.

Bluestreak and the engineer looked at him oddly.

"Why are _you _sorry Jazz?" Wheeljack asked.

"Uh...well, I saw how hard you worked on this formula thing man...and for it to be wrecked for no reason..."

"Yeah, that was pretty awful," Bluestreak easily agreed, to Jazz's relief.

He caught sight of Bumblebee as he wandered in, and hastily called him over.

"Hey guys," the Minibot said, sitting down, and looking just miserable as Bluestreak.

"I won't ask what the matter is," Wheeljack said.

"I miss him," Bumblebee said simply, with a huge sigh.

"It just doesn't _feel _right. It's like...like..."

"Like something's missing," Jazz supplied.

That's how he'd been feeling up until Prowl's revelation.

"Yeah," Bumblebee agreed unhappily.

"I know what's missing. A few microcircuits out of the rustheap's central processor,"

a voice sneered from the next table.

"Cliffjumper. Don't start," Jazz warned, low.

The red Minibot snorted but turned back to his Energon without another word.

But his comment sparked off some of the other Autobots present, and accusations were soon flying.

Jazz left the common room then, unable to take the bewildered, miserable, or accusing faces any longer.

"Prime, I can't stand this! I don't know how Prowl faked it for so long, and so well," Jazz exclaimed, flinging himself into a seat in the commander's office.

"The weight of what he's doing kept Prowl on track Jazz," Optimus explained quietly, "But I know what you mean. It's very difficult."  
"I bet pretending to be overenergized nearly floored him,"

Optimus chuckled.

"Yes. And so did "trashing" his quarters,"

He paused.

"I was sorry I suggested that however, when I saw what happened to Prowl's hands..."

The commander trailed off.

"Prowl's ok Prime, Ratchet fixed him up," Jazz assured him.

"I know," Prime said, shaking himself off.

He looked at the Porsche.

"What about you Jazz? Are you all right?"

Prime gestured to his middle.

"It's ok Prime, it doesn't hurt as much now that I know it wasn't intentional," Jazz said with a slight grin.


	11. Chapter 11

Big **thank you** again to everyone who has reviewed Chameleon so far

X  
X

Cybertron did not revolve, so the constellations appeared unchanged, year after year.

"And Earth has a natural moon?" Moonracer asked eagerly.

They'd finished dissecting the tactician's award-winning performance (and assuring him that once the rest of the Autobots were aware of why he'd behaved as he did, they'd be glad to have him back)

The females always devoured the Earth data sent to them by Teletran, fascinated by the living planet.

Prowl had told them about the Autobots' human friends, and then begun trying to satisfy their curiousity about the Earth itself.

History, geography, geology, palaeontology, astronomy - the tactician could not mention one facet of Earth's splendour without including another.

So involved they were, that no one noticed the female commander quietly approach.

Elita-One listened with a slight smile, as the mech described the ethereal light cast by a full moon on the rise, then spoke up.

"Girls, I hate to break this up, but we're on borrowed time here," Elita pointed out quietly, analysis in hand.

The three females turned silent, brought back to the seriousness of the situation.

Prowl stood up.

"Where is it?" he asked calmly.

"I'll show you. Chromia, monitor communications. Tell me _immediately_ if you pick up anything even remotely Decepticon. Firestar, Moonracer: surveillance. Go and see if Shockwave's running any kind of diagnostic...anything at all that might help him realize our diversion was just that...and if he is, distract him,"

The attractive pink commander glanced at Prowl as the females scattered to their assignments,

She saw that he wanted to go with Moonracer and Firestar, or better yet, _instead _of them, even though he didn't say a word.

"They'll be fine Prowl," Elita assured him softly, "They don't need protecting,"

"I know," the black and white mech admitted.

The female commander studied him.

"Prowl, how many Autobots do you keep under your wing back on Earth?" she asked candidly.

Prowl paused in surprise.

"Ah..."  
"And don't lie to me Prowl,"

The tactician gazed at his feet.

"Well...Bluestreak," he confessed.

"And?"

"Uh..." Prowl shifted uncomfortably.

Elita could see through him just as well as Optimus Prime.

"I hate sending _anyone _out on a dangerous mission. I'd rather do them all myself," he blurted.

"And that's why you're second in command," Elita said serenely.

She gestured to the darkened corridor, and they made their way to the small research lab.

Prowl glanced around.

This was a heavily shielded section -almost as protected as the miniscule sleeping quarters.

It was brightly lit, but empty of any personnel.

Elita paused, and Prowl saw the anxiety in her optics.

"It must be destroyed at all costs. Optimus Prime has got the best scientists to do it...I shudder to think what would eventuate should it fall into Megatron's hands," she whispered.

"That won't happen, Elita-One," Prowl said, quietly but firmly, pausing to face her.

"I hope not Prowl, for all our sakes."

She moved to a computer console and activated it.

"This is it. The virus that could kill every remaining Transformer."

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl eyed the sinister microcircuit in its containment cylinder.

"Elita, where did it come from?"

"We discovered a hidden under surface laboratory, seven or eight levels down.

We were attempting to sabotage one of Shockwave's armouries.

The lab hadn't been touched for centuries Prowl. Someone had been experimenting with viral warfare,"

Prowl felt a shiver go through him and put down the cylinder.

Elita-One gestured him to her console.

"We've made copies of it, and infected several of the non-sentient maintenance droids with them,"

She brought up the data and watched Prowl skim through it.

"Prowl...it's horrifying."

She showed him the symptoms, recorded in various stages, from first contact to death.

Prowl studied them silently, and Elita-One watched as the colour drained from the cool-headed mech's optics.

"Oh Primus..."

"It's difficult to really know anything for certain, but the droids are cybernetic beings like ourselves. I imagine a Transformer would suffer similarly,"

"Yes," Prowl agreed slowly, "But Elita...this data...if I'm interpreting it correctly, it would seem that even when the host system no longer lives, the virus still does...and is still infectious,"  
Elita looked at him.

"That's correct Prowl," she said with enormous control, "One needs only to come into contact with a sufferer's electrofield -not even into actual physical contact- to become infected. Weapons fire is even worse. We tried disposing of some of the infected droids like that, but that spreads the virus even more effectively,"

Elita-One watched the black and white door-panels draw slightly upward in apprehension.

"How in the Universe are we going to destroy it," Prowl whispered.

The female commander could not answer that.

"We have the virus's schematics. It can be duplicated from either those, or the main microcircuit. When your scientists have destroyed it, we'll do the same to the copies. The microcircuit itself has not been activated. That is our only safeguard."

Prowl nodded, once again studying the cylinder.

Had someone hoped to bring the war to a speedy end?

Autobot scientist?  
Decepticon scientist?

It may have been a extremist splinter group wishing to further only themselves.

Whoever it had been, (and Prowl realized they'd never know, to the chagrin of his curiousity circuits) thank Primus it had never gotten any further than the lab doors.

"Prowl...a thought crossed my CPU. Once released among the Decepticons, this virus could dispose of them all," Elita said, barely above a whisper.

"But how could anyone say it would not infect an Autobot? One infected means all infected..."

"We couldn't," Prowl said, low, "A dishonour to us...to Alpha Trion, and Cybertron itself. I cannot envision a more heinous way to fight than with viral warfare."

X  
X  
X  
X

Shockwave once again watched Laserbeak's desert footage.

Megatron had sent it to him, highly amused and gloating over the fact that Optimus Prime had finally lost control of his second in command.

Megatron had been relaying all of Ravage's and Laserbeak's findings since the strategist's bizarre behaviour had begun.

Shockwave studied the other black and white Autobot, Prime's saboteur, as they circled each other in the canyon.

"Computer, go back two frames and freeze. Magnify."

The big Decepticon stared at both Prowl and Jazz.

He loathed the Autobot strategist's cool logic and unshakeable character, but held a grudging admiration for him at the same time.

They'd gone head to head strategically countless times during the war, before Optimus Prime had taken his troops in search of new Energon reserves.

And Shockwave had never had a more worthy opponent.

But this time the logical Decepticon was one step ahead.

Autobots who were seriously threatening each other did not point _deactivated _weapons at one other.

It all fell into place, along with Prowl taking off so suddenly and not being able to be traced, the pointless scuffle with the two females last cycle that had left the control room unattended, and the detection of the same two females just a while ago, hanging about spying.

Cybertron's guardian activated communications.

"Shockwave to Megatron: the renegade Autobot is with the females."

X  
X  
X  
X

The Decepticon commander ended the transmission from Cybertron, seething.

He gathered his troops, even pulling the Constructicons away from the space bridge.

"Bring me the Autobot Prowl," Megatron ordered, and his subordinates heard the ice in his tone.

Everyone but Starscream had the sense not to question him when he sounded like that.

"How are we supposed to manage that, Leader? Those Autobots stick together like magnetized ore. How can we possibly corral just one?" Starscream grizzled.

"You blundering fool. We'll capture the Autobot at the spacebridge. He is on Cybertron, and will soon be slinking back to Optimus Prime," Megatron explained contemptuously.

He glared around.

"Skywarp, Thundercracker, Thrust, Soundwave, and the Stunticons. Come with me."

"Holy Cybertron Skywarp, I wouldn't want to be in that mech's casing," Thundercracker said in an undertone with a shudder as they moved out.

"Whatever they're hiding must be _big_."

X  
X  
X  
X

"I suggest embedding the dormant microcircuit in my system," Prowl said calmly.

Elita, Chromia, Moonracer and Firestar looked at him as though he'd just said he was defecting to the Decepticons.

"Prowl, no one is removing this thing until you get it back to the Ark," Chromia said, finding her vocalizer and holding up the cylinder.

Prowl sighed silently.

"It's not something I want to just stow in a subspace pocket Chromia," he explained quietly.

"If I do run into trouble with any of the Decepticons, where's the first place they're going to look? That's standard. 'Disarm, then check subspace pockets',"

He looked round at the concerned faces.

"You've all seen the data. You know I can't be infected unless it is activated, nor can anyone else,"

He turned to the female commander, silently appealing to her.

Elita sighed.

"You're right Prowl. But what if Ratchet can't remove it? Or worse, _activates _it?"

Prowl glanced out of the control room's observation space, at the stars he hadn't seen for several millennia.

And possibly might not ever see again.

He faced the female.

"Elita, I have the utmost faith in our scientists," he said evenly.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Prowl for the love of Primus be careful," Firestar said anxiously.

Prowl gave her a slight smile.

"I will. But-"

"Just be careful," Chromia ordered, interrupting sharply.

Their medic had implanted the microcircuit in his chest with infinite care, hoping desperately the Ark scientists could remove it with little difficulty.

The comm console chirped, to Prowl's relief.

The females stopped staring at him in dire concern and rushed for the console.

Prime's transmission, right on schedule.

"This is Elita-One, please come in,"

They waited with the same tenseness as they'd been experiencing for the last several weeks.

"_Elita, this is Prime. What's going on out there_?"

The females relaxed in relief.

"Everything is ok so far Optimus," Elita informed him, and Prowl noted how the tension in her features eased at his commander's rich tone.

"_Prowl_?"

"I have the microcircuit Prime," Prowl told him.

"_Prowl, for Primus's sake be careful with it_," Jazz put in anxiously.

Prowl smiled slightly.

"Will do Jazz."

"_Once you're back here, I'll inform everyone of your behaviour Prowl_," Optimus Prime said, knowing that was bothering his tactician a great deal.

"Prime, will you play escort and armed guard?" Prowl asked, not jokingly.

"_Prowl man, once everyone knows what you did and that it was all under orders, they won't think twice of it_,"

"That's what we told him Jazz," Firestar spoke up.  
"I admire your confidence," Prowl said dryly, and Prime couldn't help a chuckle.

"_Man, I'll make _sure _no one thinks twice of it_,"

Jazz said firmly.

"_Prowl, I look forward to having you back. As my tactician and as my friend_," Prime said warmly, "_I'm proud of you. No one could have asked any more of you_."

X  
X  
X  
X

Optimus Prime ended communications as the satellite moved out of range, and glanced at the saboteur.

Jazz wore his trademark dazzling grin, the one Prime hadn't seen for quite a while.

"What are you so happy about?"

The commander teased as he returned to regular transmissions.

"Powerglide, this is Optimus Prime. Please state your location,"

_"Just approaching the Decepticon's desert base Prime,"_

"Ok. Change course to the spacebridge. Tell me as soon as you're in visual range. I need to know if there are any Decepticons near it, understood?"

"_No problem! Powerglide out! And awaa-ay we go!_"

The red mech's characteristic catchphrase slipped through before he ended transmission.

Jazz laughed, then laughed harder at the look in Prime's optics.

"He's a happy guy Prime," Jazz shrugged.

"I'd be a happy guy too, if we could turn up some evidence of what the Constructicons are up to Jazz," Prime said.

He took a seat in front of his comm console as the reconnaissance teams began checking in.

"_Hound to Optimus Prime: we haven't sniffed out a thing-"_

_"And we've been over most of North-West Oregon Prime,"_

Cliffjumper grouched.

The Aerialbots reported much the same, and they'd been over a far, far greater distance.

Even Cosmos hadn't detected anything.

Prime sighed and thanked his teams, telling them to come home.

"What do you think that means Jazz?"

He asked, turning to his saboteur.

"I'm not sure Prime," the Porsche said thoughtfully.

_"Powerglide to Optimus Prime; the spacebridge is unguarded,"_

Jazz and Prime exchanged a glance.

"Is that good or bad?" Jazz asked in an undertone.

"I don't know Jazz," the commander said slowly.

"Thank you Powerglide. Return to the Ark."

"At least Prowl can get back to the base without harrassment,"

He added, looking at Jazz.

"Prime, should I meet him halfway, just in case?"

Jazz suggested.

Optimus hesitated, tempted to say yes.

"Jazz, I'd rather you didn't, just until Ratchet and Skyfire check this microcircuit he's carrying. In fact, I better make sure _no one _comes into contact with Prowl until then."

X  
X  
X  
X

"Ready?" Moonracer asked in a whisper.

"Go for it," Firestar hissed.

"Good luck Prowl," she added before they sent a barrage of firepower into the midst of a group of Seekers.

Shockwave's minions returned fire as Prowl and Chromia slipped into the Decepticon's main control room out of sight, barely dodging Shockwave as he rushed out to assist his troops.

"That was easy," Prowl speculated as he sealed the door.

Chromia reached the spacebridge controls.

"Maybe a little _too_ easy," she muttered, "Look Prowl -it's already set for the desert coordinates,"

"Special delivery," Prowl said, surveying the items ready and waiting in the transport module.

Clearly, the finishing touches for a lethal device.

_So that's what the Constructicons have been up to._

_And I know exactly where they're intending to aim it too, _

Prowl thought grimly, quickly taking a mental inventory, _Straight at our headquarters_.

He shook his head, momentarily overwhelmed at the dangers facing the Autobots.

Prowl knew Prime had had teams searching round the clock, without success.

Obviously it wouldn't be long before it was completed.

Prowl looked the components over again, and had a flash of certainty as to where the device was located.

"Chromia, contact the Ark as soon as possible," Prowl said urgently, "The Constructicon weapon..."

He trailed off as the vague sounds of weapons fire ceased.

"Chromia, get _down_!"

Prowl threw himself at the female second in command as a Seeker winged through the transmetal wall above them, splintering it and firing shots that ricocheted wildly.

"Prowl, _go_!" Chromia shrieked, giving him a mighty shove into the transporter, and diving to activate it.

An astrosecond later the spacebridge launch opened above the control room, and a wave of light arrowed into space.


	12. Chapter 12

Prowl felt the familiar warmth of desert sand under his tyres as the column of sparkling light dissipated.

He'd transformed in transit, and had managed to partly conceal himself in a large semi-cylindrical power duct.

He kept still as the dust settled around him.

Prowl knew he'd have to make a move quickly.

Megatron wasn't likely to leave "merchandise" laying around in the spacebridge unguarded for long.

He desperately hoped that no harm had come to the females.

Prowl performed a quick scan, and wasn't happy with the results.

Megatron, Skywarp, Thundercracker, Thrust, Soundwave & Co, and the Stunticons.

The Datsun took stock of the situation almost instantaneously, calculating every remotely possible move each Decepticon could make once he was out of the metal doughnut.

Prowl had never gambled in his life, but he wondered briefly what the wager would be on him making it from the spacebridge to the Ark.

_A hundred to one? Smokescreen could probably tell me. I have to get back to the Ark, no matter what. For the virus and this weapon._

He could outpace all the Stunticons.

Except Dragstrip, but the tactician outpaced him with more than flying colours when it came to intellect, especially intellect on the move.

Soundwave was a cold, efficient warrior, but Prowl could be just as efficient in battle.

The big mech's Casseticons were little but lethal; take your optic off them and they'd help a more powerful Decepticon have you.

It was the Seekers who were most dangerous to an Earth-bound Autobot.

And Megatron, dangerous to anybody.

_Don't fight, run._

Prowl summed all that up in a couple of astroticks, then blazed through the hatch, heading directly for Wildrider.

That momentarily stunned the Stunticons stationary.

What Autobot was _that _unhinged when it came to driving?

"Don't just sit there like piles of rust, get him you fools!" Megatron bellowed, firing off a few badly-aimed shots.

Prowl dodged them with ease, noting the Seekers had taken to the air.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Man, shouldn't he have been back by now?" Jazz asked uncertainly.

Optimus Prime glanced at his chrono and made a decision.

"I'm going to risk a direct communication to Cybertron,"

X  
X  
X  
X

Elita-One answered the priority transmission immediately.

Chromia, Firestar and Moonracer had managed to hold off Shockwave's guards until Elita had arrived with reinforcements.

"_Elita...Prowl has not returned_,"

Optimus Prime said tightly.

"Something's happened," Firestar whispered.

Chromia cursed, not quietly.

"I _knew _there was something up! That's why we had such an easy time getting to the spacebridge controls - Shockwave _let _us!"

"If they've got Prowl we have to find him!" Moonracer exclaimed, leaping up.

Elita held up a hand, pausing her.

"You saw the spacebridge activate?" she asked quietly.

"Yes! I shoved him into it! I _initiated_ it!" Chromia exclaimed.

"Then Prowl is no longer on Cybertron,"

She quickly informed Optimus Prime.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Jazz, take a run to the spacebridge. See if it's been active in the last few hours,"

Prime ordered the highly-wrought Porsche.

The saboteur was transformed before the commander finished speaking, but before he hared off, Jazz asked one question.

"Prime...do you think Prowl could be somewhere besides Cybertron or Earth?"

"If he is Jazz, he's much better off than being in Megatron's grip," Optimus Prime said grimly, turning back to the comm console.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Slag it Skywarp, help me!" Thundercracker snarled, wrestling with the violently struggling Autobot.

Prowl had more or less allowed himself to be corralled by the Seekers.

He couldn't outrun the jets, and there was little cover between the spacebridge and the Ark.

The haphazard Decepticon weapons fire was far too risky while he was carrying something so potentially disastrous.

But that didn't mean he was going to go quietly.

Prowl's door-panels were providing them with a little extra difficulty in restraining him from behind, but let him use his elbows to their full advantage.

He drove both elbow-joints back with as much force as he could manage, and felt and heard casing crunch and buckle.

"_Ow_!" Skywarp yelped, letting go in pain, leaving Thundercracker to try and keep a solo hold on the Autobot strategist.

Ravage suddenly took it into his CPU to assist the big Seeker, and leapt at the Autobot, claws and fangs bared.

He managed to slash the black and white door-panels, but in his haste also latched onto Thundercracker's wrist.

Prowl tore himself free as the Seeker's grip lessened, Thundercracker cursing Ravage to the Pit for three eternities as the robotic feline slinked back to Soundwave.

Thrust and Skywarp leapt into the fray, forcing the tactician to his knees and restraining his arms behind him by the wrists.

Prowl struggled almost out of their grip, Energon running from stinging door-panels.

"You fools," Megatron growled.

He'd had enough of these antics.

He strode to the Autobot and pointed his fusion cannon.

Prowl submitted immediately.

One blast from that weapon would activate and spread the virus to all of them.

"I would have thought you'd have more mettle than that Prowl," Megatron sneered, seeing the submission as cowardice.

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz braked hard, just sliding into the spacebridge's shadow.

He transformed and gave the area a quick once-over.

There'd clearly been some kind of struggle.

It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

There were tread marks and scuffs everywhere, some tiny bits of bodypaint, scorch marks, and the all-pervading odour of energy weapon residue.

And some scattered drops of dried Energon in the dust.

Jazz caught sight of a clear, all too familiar, footprint.

"Jazz to Prime: Prowl was here. And so were the Decepticons," the saboteur said flatly.

There was a pause.

"_Acknowledged Jazz. Get back here as fast as you can. It's time to bring everything into the open_."

X  
X  
X  
X

"Prime, we've gotta get _moving_!"

Jazz exclaimed as Optimus Prime tried to raise Cybertron from his quarters.

"Jazz, I'd like nothing more than to get Prowl back here, but we have no data on the microcircuit," the big Autobot said quietly.

He turned back to the console, but an incoming visual slowly overrode it.

"Greetings Prime," Megatron said with a self-satisfied smirk.

"What do you want?" Optimus said flatly, but he and Jazz both already knew the reason for this communiqué.

"Is this what you're looking for?" the Decepticon leader sneered, hitting the wide-screen angle.

Prowl, in the Decepticons' desert base, in the physical custody of Thundercracker and Skywarp.

Jazz took a vicious small pleasure in the fact that the Seekers weren't entirely undamaged.

"You sl-" he started, and Optimus Prime silenced him with a glance.

"Release him at once Megatron," Prime ordered sharply.

"Not until I know why your trusty second in command "abandoned" you Prime. Highly unusual. But it may be of interest to me,"

"Prowl, are you all right?" Prime demanded.

"I'm fine Optimus," the tactician said calmly, and looked directly at the saboteur.

"Jazz: Queen to queen's level two,"

"Queen to king's level one," the saboteur answered automatically.

"What is that drivel are you leaking?" Megatron demanded.

"TechChess terminology. I wanted to let him know my final move," Prowl stated coolly, "We're finishing up a game, and I enjoy it too much to let it go unfinished."

"Spare me the details of your amusements," Megatron snapped.

He switched back to normal view and leaned close to the screen.

"Tell me what you are hiding, and I may consider killing him quickly Optimus,"

Prime took up a similar intimidating position.

"Do not threaten me Megatron," he said with quiet fury.

"I want to speak to Prowl again,"

The two Seekers forced him closer.

"Prime, do not attempt a rescue," the tactician said firmly. He still spoke calmly but they could see drying Energon on his door-panels.

"You will be putting Autobot lives in danger if you do so. Don't worry about me."

The screen cut to Megatron.

"There you have it Prime. He is still functional. For now," he sneered, and Optimus Prime came close to putting his fist through the screen.

Optimus Prime stood up, and Jazz saw the controlled anger in his optics.

"How can he worry about TechChess when he's in so much danger?" Prime blurted.

"Oh man. Prime, wait," Jazz said quickly as the commander began to stride out, "It's a code,"  
Optimus Prime stopped in his doorway and turned back.

"A code? What are you talking about?"

"Prowl came up with the idea. It's a way for us to let the other know of a threat to the Ark, or the rest of the Autobots,"  
Prime thought quickly.

How typical of his second in command.

"So you believe there's danger to the rest of us, the Ark?"

"I know there is. Prowl wouldn't have given me the code if there wasn't,"

Jazz confirmed seriously, "Prime, I'm guessing it may have something to do with whatever the Constructicons have been working on,"

Prime nodded, the anger in his optics replaced with anxiety.

"That would fit Jazz, if there were any _evidence_ of it. But no one has been able to find anything,"  
"Prime, Prowl gave me the code. That means we better move _fast_," Jazz said, low.

X  
X  
X  
X

Optimus Prime had gathered the Autobots, and made sure those who were located too far away to be there received him.

"We have all been aware of Prowl's recent behaviour-"  
"Haven't we ever," a voice muttered from the back of the room.

"And the time has come to tell you that he was acting directly under the explicit orders of myself and Elita-One,"

The revelation hit like a bolt of lightning.

Reactions ranged from startled expletitives to huge sighs of relief.

Cliffjumper spoke up, completely perplexed.

"Wait, _everything _Prowl's done was under orders? Running from a fight, whacking Ironhide, showing up late, wrecking Wheeljack's thing-"

"Yes," Prime confirmed firmly, "_Everything _was under orders. Not everything was planned to the letter -that would have been impossible- and Prowl had to be on his toes to make the worst of every situation at every opportunity. But yes, it was _all _under the instruction of Elita-One and I,"

"I knew it!" Bluestreak crowed, "I _knew _Prowl couldn't have become like that,"

Sneaking smiles were growing on both Ironhide's and Ratchet's faces.

Jazz looked around as more and more smiles began appearing.

All the bad feeling in the air seemed to have been swept away, but Jazz could only concentrate on worrying about the tactician.

"Prime, _why_?" Wheeljack managed to ask over the increasing noise.

The Autobot commander waved them into quiet, and explained about the deadly virus that could become a weapon of war.

By the end of his explanation, there was dead silence.

It began dawning just what Prowl was doing.

And how much potential danger he'd put himself in to do it.

"Wh...where's Prowl now?" Bluestreak spoke up.

Jazz and Prime exchanged a pained glance.

"He is in Decepticon hands."

"Well come on, we gotta bust him outta there," Ironhide urged, amid a chorus of assertive agreement.

X  
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X

"I will give you one final chance. Tell me why you went to Cybertron," Megatron said, slowly and deliberately, towering menacingly over the Autobot.

Prowl got to his feet, never breaking optic contact.

"You've been fooled Megatron. I would _never_ betray Optimus Prime. You can interrogate me until you rust, but you won't get a word out of me," he said, low.

The Decepticon commander stared at him.

"We'll see if you change your logical but tiny mind," he growled.

Megatron stalked to the cell door and led Soundwave in.

"The Autobot will talk," the large communications mech promised ominously.

Soundwave advanced on the tactician, and Megatron left him to it.

"Well, Megatron?"

A shrill voice cut through the low chatter as the commander strode back into main control area.

"Well _what_, Starscream?" Megatron snapped without stopping.

Unfazed, the Seeker got out of his seat and went to him.

"What is the Autobot hiding?"  
Megatron brushed him aside, literally, and kept going, but answered.

"Soundwave is using his skills of persuasion to discover just that, Starscream."

Thundercracker shuddered involuntarily.

He'd never been comfortable around Soundwave from the first time he'd met him.

And all the talk about his "skills of mental persuasion" just added to the wariness.

_I feel sorry for you, Autobot_, the Seeker thought to himself frankly, wondering how many of his marbles the black and white mech would still have a grip on when Soundwave was through with him.


	13. Chapter 13

"Information extraction unsuccessful," Soundwave announced.

"What do you mean, 'unsuccessful'?" Megatron asked dangerously.

"Autobot Prowl is possessed of formidable mental barriers," Soundwave intoned.

He'd never admit to anyone, or even out loud to himself, but the black and white mech's mental discipline had highly impressed him.

The Decepticon commander glared into the cell.

The tactician's calmness infuriated Megatron.

Prowl glanced up with an air of disinterest as the Decepticon stormed into the cell.

Resisting Soundwave's mental probing had taken a good deal of cerebral concentration, and he felt slightly fuzzy.

But no more so than after half an hour or so of Jazz's tv soaps.

Prowl bit back a smile at the thought as Megatron fronted him.

"You begin to annoy me Prowl," he growled, "Tell me what you are hiding, or you will suffer the consequences,"

Prowl folded his arms.

Silently.

"Very well, Autobot."

Megatron activated his commlink.

"Starscream, send in our...skilled negotiators,"

He leaned in menacingly.

"Pain is a highly effective tool," the Decepticon hissed as Astrotrain and Ramjet swaggered in, cracking knuckle-joints.

Prowl eyed them without visible fear.

"Inflict all the damage you can manage, but I still won't tell you anything,"

"We'll "inflict damage" Autobot, don't go doubting that," Astrotrain sniggered as Megatron marched out.

"Your commander doesn't get his own hands dirty, does he?" Prowl said dryly.

Ramjet drove him back against the cell wall with such force the Datsun's windshield and police lights shattered.

"Hehehe, good one Ramjet," the purple triplechanger grinned.

He eyed the Autobot tactician, pinned by Ramjet's full weight, and zeroed in on his injured door-panels.

Ravage had left several deep vertical slashes on both.

Astrotrain deliberately drew the fingertips of one hand across the slashes, pressing hard, dragging great pieces of Energon-stained paintwork off.

Fresh Energon flowed as he looked the Autobot in the optics with a malevolent grin.

Prowl refused to break optic contact, and he refused to make a sound.

He felt intuitively that the big Decepticon got his kicks from watching beings, metal or flesh, suffer, and he wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

No matter how agonizing it was.

X  
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X

"Well?" Megatron demanded of his two "heavies," glancing at the Energon on their casings that wasn't their own.

"Zilch," Astrotrain complained, flexing his hands.

He was more than slagged off.

They'd given the Autobot their best going-over, and not only would he not _speak_, he hadn't made _any_ sound.

Not even when held down by their combined weight and his midsection casing literally torn open.

Where was the fun in torturing someone when you couldn't make them beg you to stop?

"Get out of my sight," Megatron growled, his fury apparent in every syllable.

Astrotrain and Ramjet quickly made themselves scarce.

X  
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X

"Have fun?" Thundercracker hissed in something like disgust, eyeing the Energon on their fronts.

Ramjet ignored him, but Astrotrain faced him with an arrogant smile.

"Yeah. But Autobots are weaklings, you have to stop before the fun _really _starts."

"I hear you didn't get a word out of him," Thundercracker needled, "You're a slagging sadist Astrotrain. Even if he had spilled his innards you wouldn't have stopped until he was unconscious or dead."

Astrotrain drove him against the wall in fury.

"Go ahead, you lump of harlequin metal," Thundercracker sneered.

He submitted, knowing full well how much the triplechanger hated it when opponents didn't struggle.

"Go on! Or don't you have the ball bearings? I'm not an Autobot half your size, am I?" the Seeker spat.

He'd never understood how anyone could enjoy inflicting such deliberate suffering.

Until he'd met Astrotrain, that was.

The triplechanger shook him, once, then common sense took over.

Starscream and Skywarp were both present.

While Astrotrain knew Starscream didn't really care too much about Thundercracker the person, he highly valued him as a wingmate in battle.

Skywarp was definitely a Friend, however, and Astrotrain knew the two Seekers wouldn't tolerate Thundercracker being injured at his hands.

He let go and stalked off.

X  
X  
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X

Megatron was seething; nothing he'd tried worked to break the tactician's iron will.

Mental probing hadn't worked, physical pain hadn't worked, but Megatron had another way.

Emotional blackmail.

Prowl saw the Decepticon commander appear at the cell's barred door, but did not acknowledge him.

Megatron eyed the Autobot second in command, upright on the bench, leaning against the wall.

His door-panels were a mishmash of Energon, bare patches and cuts, the black and white barely visible, and hanging at awkward angles.

One arm was pressed to his bleeding midsection, and Megatron realized casing was missing.

He was dented and damaged from crest to toes.

An involuntary but at the same time self-satisfied shiver went through the Decepticon, as he imagined how Optimus Prime would react to this sight.

"Poor fool," he said condescendingly, "Is it worth it Prowl?"

The Autobot slowly faced him.

"Yes," he half gasped, half growled, icy blue optics locking with red.

He turned back painfully, hand on chest.

"My Constructicons are putting the finishing touches on a weapon of devastation as we speak," the Decepticon commander informed him slowly, hoping to shake the Autobot second in command.

Prowl did not react.

"And once I have tested it, by levelling the Ark and every Autobot in it, I think I'll go on a tour of the earth's greatest sights," Megatron sneered.

"Sydney Harbour Bridge...the Acropolis...the Pyramids...Eiffel Tower...Empire State Building...all will be obliterated, followed by the cities that surround them, unless the worthless humans hand over enough energy reserves to get me back to Cybertron.

And without you sentimental fools to protect them, they will have no choice!

Then, my ultimate goal: A Cybertron without Autobots,"

Megatron strolled to the bank of computer consoles opposite the cells, and switched on a monitor.

"I actually believed it," he said, watching again Laserbeak's footage of Prowl decking Ironhide.

"Optimus Prime's trusty second in command, acting completely out of character. I'm surprised you weren't thrown out on your aft Prowl, following this little stunt,"  
"Autobots do not abandon each other," Prowl informed him flatly.

"And why are you showing me this?" he demanded with an effort.

Megatron gave him a cold smile.

"I thought you might want to see your _friends_-" he emphasized the word with a sneer "- as how they saw you last, before I scatter their molecules across the solar system,"

Prowl felt his Energon run cold.

"Tell me what you are hiding, and as I told Prime, I may consider killing you quickly. If you _don't_, it will be bye-bye Ark, and all those inside its walls,"

The sardonic Decepticon held up a small remote chip.

Prowl got to his feet painfully, and got to the cell door reasonably steadily, only through sheer will.

"Harm them, _any _of them, and Primus help me, I'll kill you myself," Prowl spat.

The Decepticon leader leaned in close.

"You don't have it in you Prowl."

"Try me Megatron. Just try me."

Prowl did not break visual contact, and Megatron experienced, to his utter astonishment, a split astrosecond of apprehension at the look in the Autobot's optics.

The Decepticon quickly recovered and gave him a superior laugh.

"Difficult to do, when you're behind bars Prowl. Now tell me-" he held the chip out in his palm, finger poised, "What are you hiding? Most of the Autobots are in the Ark right now, only a handful remain elsewhere on this pathetic planet. Perfect timing for a test run, wouldn't you agree?"

Prowl clenched his fists so that his knuckle-joints cracked.

It went against orders, protocol, and his own strong personal sense of right...but the alternative was sit back and watch the Ark, Optimus Prime, and the Autobots be destroyed.

_I will never let that happen._

Outwardly, he was cool and collected, but inside he was frenetic.

He knew Jazz had understood his underground message, but what could Prime do about it?

None of the Autobots knew where this weapon was.

Prowl had a fair idea, but he had no way of contacting the Ark; his captors had made sure to damage his radio and commlinks.

The main diagnostics for the thing were obviously in this rocky hideout...and were probably well-guarded.

Prowl considered the possibilities.

If he could get to it, he may be able to destroy the weapon via its control centre.

But could he find it before the Decepticons found him?

Probably not, the base was swarming with nearly the entire compliment of Megatron's troops.

He tensed involuntarily as a wave of pain shot forth from his door-panels.

"I carry a fatal virus, one that could kill every Transformer, on Earth and on Cybertron,"

Prowl said quietly.

Megatron's optics actually paled a shade or two.

"You are infected?" he demanded, dropping the hand clutching the remote.

"No. I was to bring it to Earth so we could destroy it, permanently."  
Prowl felt his legs weaken, forcing him back onto the bench, to his annoyance.

"Wait...you carry _nothing_!" Megatron declared, "We detected nothing in the full body scans!"  
"It is impervious to regular scans," the tactician informed him quietly, "It is shielded with a layer of triaxium alloy."

Megatron paused.

The Autobot's explanation was too simple to be a lie.

"Give it to me, and I will have it disposed of,"

"I cannot. It is embedded in my system. If you try to extract it from me -dead or alive- you will unleash it on yourselves."

X  
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X

Prowl listened to the Decepticon commander leave the cell block, and gingerly touched his gaping midsection.

The bleeding was slowing, and it didn't hurt as badly as Astrotrain had obviously hoped it would.

In tearing off the tactician's midsection casing, he had destroyed a great many nerve motor relays, numbing the resulting pain.

The head to toe buffeting had given Prowl lots of dents and scrapes, and probably given the Decepticon "negotiators" sore knuckles, but the pain level was acceptable.

His door-panels hurt him the most, but were no longer bleeding.

Prowl recalled Ratchet's instructions, the ones he'd insisted on repeating and repeating to ensure every Autobot memorized them.

"If you're injured and away from medical attention, ie: _me_, first thing is to _stay calm_.

Try to stop any bleeding, and if possible, just keep as still as you can to give your self-repair systems a chance to go to work."

Prowl decided to allow himself about fifteen minutes, and felt his self-repair systems -the ones that were functional- "go to work" as he settled himself carefully on the bench.

_What do you know, _the tactician thought wryly as he counted down the minutes, _the memorizing worked._

Fifteen minutes up and pain control accomplished, he turned his concentration to getting out of this cell.

Prowl eased himself up and thoroughly examined the cell door.

X  
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X

"Come on Prime, let's _move_," Ironhide urged, already transformed along with Jazz.

Optimus Prime looked over the rest of the Autobots he'd selected for the rescue raid.

He was proud of how quickly his troops had dropped the collective grudge against Prowl.

"All right Autobots: transform, and let's go."


	14. Chapter 14

Prowl methodically scrutinized the cell walls.

His demeanour blanketed his increasing anxiety about the hidden Decepticon weapon that had the Ark in its sights.

The solid barred cell door offered little means of escape.

Prowl would've needed two or three extra sets of Autobot muscle to help shift or damage it, even if he weren't injured and below full strength.

The tactician caught the sound of footsteps in the cell block corridor.

These weren't the arrogant, overconfident steps of Megatron, or the saunter of a high-ranking Decepticon, but Prowl was taking no chances.

He sat himself back on the bench, trying to ignore the pain signals from several different body locations.

Prowl folded his arms as Dragstrip entered the block and paused in front of the Autobot's cell.

The gold F1 did a double take.

Obviously Dragstrip hadn't before had the pleasure of witnessing or viewing Astrotrain's "skills."

"_Megatron to Dragstrip! Come in, you flitter-brained simpleton,"_

The F1 startled, then lunged for the computer console behind him, managing to answer his leader.

"Yes Megatron!"

"_Observe the prisoner. Be sure he makes no escape attempt. I want him functional, to behold the total destruction of the Autobots at his hands,_"  
"But -but Megatron, you said he had some virus," Dragstrip said anxiously, trying to keep his voice down, glancing over his shoulder at the tactician.

"_Do not question me, or I will put you in the cell _with _the Autobot!_"

The Decepticon commander raged and abruptly ended communications.

Dragstrip shuddered and slowly turned around.

The black and white Autobot regarded him calmly.

"I _carry _the virus Dragstrip. I don't have it," he said quietly.

"I don't speak to enemy prisoners," the Stunticon said sharply, trying to mask his uneasiness.

Prowl shrugged indifferently.

"That's fine. I don't feel like talking anyway," he said palely, shifting painfully, and the Decepticon got a full view of his midsection.

Dragstrip paused uncomfortably, watching the Autobot.

Prowl slid slowly onto his side from his back-to-the-wall position, optics offlining.

"Hey," Dragstrip snapped, then, "_Hey_! Autobot! Wake up!"

The Stunticon's faint panic mounted as he fidgeted, trying to decide whether to disturb the volatile Megatron, or handle things himself.

"Rust! Why _me_!" the gold mech babbled, as he fiddled with and eventually managed to open the cell door.

He approached the Autobot with all the hesitation of an arachnophobic who's not sure if the spider's actually dead.

"_Slag_," Dragstrip hissed.

The Autobot's midsection had started trickling Energon again, and he looked a pitiful sight.

Dragstrip paused nervously, unsure of what to do.

Megatron wanted the Autobot _functional_, and here he was, un_con_scious.

He leaned down to check the prisoner's optics.

At that split astrosecond, Prowl surged up, caught the startled Stunticon in a textbook-perfect hold, and managed to disarm and stun him with his own rifle.

The tactician lowered him to the cell floor, and slipped into the cell block corridor, taking Dragstrip's weapon with him.

Prowl loathed playing roboto-possum, but conceded sometimes one had no choice.

He slipped silently through the Decepticon base, but met no one.

The sound level increased as he made his way through a section of tunnel that gradually grew lighter, and knew he was nearing the main control sector.

Prowl approached the cavern with extreme caution, and paused, concealed by a recent rockfall.

The Autobot looked around carefully, calculating the series of moves he was going to make.

He spotted the bank of monitors that stood out from the rest.

These were brand-new Cybertronian technology, courtesy of Shockwave, probably.

And Prowl knew beyond doubt that they were the key to destroying the Decepticon weapon.

He lay down the Stunticon rifle, and leaning on the cave tunnel wall for support, eased his chest casing open.

It was made a little difficult because of the damage, but he managed, and removed the implanted microcircuit.

Prowl broke the triaxium shielding, and paused briefly to brace himself.

"It's been great serving with you Prime," he whispered with great control.

"You too Jazz," he added, and activated the virus.

He felt a hot prickle go through his main nerve and motor relays, and knew with certainty that he was infected.

He stuffed the microcircuit in a secure subspace pocket, and left the 'borrowed' rifle where it was.

X  
X  
X  
X

Elita-One and Chromia turned to each other with identical looks of fear in their optics as their laboratory warning system went berserk.

Firestar screeched into the communications centre and transformed.

"Elita! The virus! All our "copies" have re-initiated!"

"No..."

The female commander whispered, stricken.

X  
X  
X  
X

"_Bumblebee to Optimus Prime!"_

The rescue team had just cleared the Ark and were preparing to hit maximum speed.

"Prime here," the commander answered, without decreasing speed.

"_Prime, there's a priority transmission from Cybertron_," the Minibot said, and every Autobot heard the desperate and fearful tone in his vocalizer.

"Autobots, all stop," Optimus Prime ordered.

He slowed, allowing all his troops to pass him, to avoid collecting anybody before he came to a standstill.

The Autobots braked, all violently, several skidding wildly.

"Put it through to me Bumblebee," Prime said as the Autobots gathered round him apprehensively.

"_Optimus, this is Elita-One._ _It has been unleashed. The virus is active_."

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl glanced around at the Decepticon muscle occupying the cavern.

He knew that he would never have been able to hold them all off long enough to get at the weapon's console.

Both sets of Seekers, the remaining Stunticons, Soundwave and his minions, the Constructicons, Blitzwing, Astrotrain.

And Megatron.

The Constructicons, Starscream and Megatron were gathered around the console, arguing.

The rest of the Decepticons were involved in communications, monitoring, or what looked like to Prowl just the pretext of being on guard.

Prowl straightened up, slipped out from his hideaway, and stepped deliberately just inside the cavern.

"Move away from that console," he said coolly.

He did not speak loudly, but the determination in his tone resonated, cutting through the animated chatter and arguing.

For a brief moment every Decepticon present just stared at him, then almost as one, Skywarp, Thrust and Blitzwing pointed weapons.

Soundwave despatched Ravage, Rumble and Laserbeak.

Prowl noticed Megatron make no attempt to move toward him, and made optic contact for just a split astrotick.

And Prowl saw fear in the ruby optics.

"_Wait_!" Starscream shrieked, almost throwing himself at Skywarp and Blitzwing.

He closely eyed the Autobot.

"What the slag are you-" Thrust started to explode, but the Seeker cut in.

"He has infected himself!"

Starscream shrilled, transformed, and bolted.

The rest of the Decepticons looked on warily, no longer sure of themselves.

After all, Starscream had been a student of science before becoming a warrior, and knew what he was talking about...didn't he?

"He's correct," the Autobot spoke up coolly, "I _am _infected. And your weapons fire will spread the virus to all of you, whether or not I live."

He took a step into the room.

Megatron silently held up his hand, warning his troops to stay back.

"Do not approach me," Prowl said calmly, "If you make contact with my electrofield you will become infected. As of yet, there is no way to eradicate this virus."

"Wh- why did you do it?" Skywarp breathed, "You've as good as killed yourself,"

Prowl looked directly at Megatron.

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one," the Autobot second in command said evenly.

He caught sight of Soundwave, his Casseticons having quickly retreated back into his chest, inching toward a standard servocontrol.

"Soundwave, trapping me in a forcefield will offer you no protection," Prowl said quietly, making his way toward the big mech.

Prowl of course had no intention of infecting _anybody_, and was taking great care with distances.

But the Decepticons didn't know that.

"Decepticons, evacuate the room," Megatron said in a controlled white-hot rage, moving back as Prowl slowly crossed the floor to the weapons console.

The tactician ignored the Decepticon commander's burning glare as he looked over the schematics.

The rank-and-file cleared the room, some panickedly, as Prowl proceeded to destroy the workings of the device.

It was pointed directly at the Ark, about three-quarters of a kilometre offshore, positioned on the Pacific seabed.

Right where Prowl had deduced.

_That will buy Optimus some time_, the tactician said to himself in satisfaction.

The console was irreparable.

He made sure to add a destructive feedback loop, and as he did so, Megatron pulled the control chip from a subspace pocket with a strangled yelp.

He flung the sparking, smoking remote across the room with all the force he could manage, probably wishing it was the black and white Autobot.

The weapon itself was undamaged, but the means to initiate it were obliterated.

Prowl knew it would take a while before another set of controls could be put together, long enough for the Autobots to locate and destroy it.

"You may have saved the Ark from oblivion, but you will not survive," Megatron sneered, "Your friends don't know how close to death they came if not for you, and after your behaviour, I am sure no one cares if their second-in-command lives or dies."

X  
X  
X  
X

The females had quickly sent the meagre information they had.

Ratchet, Wheeljack and Skyfire feverishly analysed the data.

The medic, in particular, was stunned by the damage it caused, and how quickly it spread through a Transformer's system.

"I have never seen anything like this,"Skyfire said apprehensively.

They'd duplicated a microcircuit from the schematics, appalled at how easy it was to copy.

The three Autobot scientists stared at each other, pale optic'd.

"We're not going to be able to rescue Prowl without a vaccine," Skyfire finally voiced the harsh facts, "Or it will spread to all of us."


	15. Chapter 15

"Jazz, we cannot attempt a rescue without a vaccine," Optimus Prime said with immense control.

"The whole point of this was to remove the virus from Cybertron and destroy it on Earth. It could kill all of us. The plan did not include a capture by the Decepticons."

The saboteur was nearly beside himself.

"Optimus, what on Cybertron is going on! How was the virus activated? How-"

"Jazz, settle down," Prime said in a low voice, even though he too felt like kicking and screaming.

"Ratchet is testing a variety of vaccines. We just have to stay calm."

Jazz roundly cursed Shockwave, Megatron, his minions, and Prowl himself.

He'd had enough.

"Slag it!" Jazz suddenly yelped out loud and leapt to his feet before Prime could stop him.

Optimus Prime laid his face in his hands, close to total despair.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Ratchet man, how's it going?" Jazz demanded as he burst into the medbay.

"We've got a promising test vaccine, but it's so _hard_! Testing on an infected inanimate droid just isn't good enough!" Ratchet cursed, even more colourfully than Jazz.

"But what choice do we have?" Skyfire asked softly.

Jazz glanced around and spotted the test droid within its containment field.

"Ratchet, what about testing on a living Autobot?"

"Perfect Jazz," the medic snapped in frustration, "We're trying to _save_ Autobot lives, not endanger them!"

Jazz braced himself.

"Ratchet man, I'm volunteering myself,"

Wheeljack dropped the instrument in his hand with a clatter, and Ratchet and Skyfire stared at him, open-mouthed.

"No. Not even if hell freezes over!" Ratchet exclaimed, "Jazz, have your common sense algorithms taken an absence of leave? Primus!"

Optimus Prime chose that exact moment to walk into the medbay.

"What's going on?" he asked in concern.

The medic explained.

"Ratchet, you need to test this thing!" Jazz snapped.

"How can you administer a vaccine if you're not sure it works!"

"I hate to agree Ratch, but he's got a point," Wheeljack said quietly.

"Prime, _please_," Jazz openly begged the commander, "It wouldn't be active right now if I hadn't stopped Prowl in the desert that day!"

"Jazz, you'll be laying your life on the line," Optimus Prime said quietly.

"And what the slag's Prowl done?" Jazz snapped.

He shouldered past the big Autobot and fronted the medic.

"Ratchet, do it now, or I'll do it myself,"

Ratchet glanced at Prime.

The Autobot commander tilted his chin down, once.

He felt the weight of making life or death decisions was going to crush him one day.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl glanced up from the defunct monitors as Dragstrip stumbled into the cavern.

"Megatron! The prisoner..."

The gold Stunticon trailed off as he spotted the Autobot, and his furious commander.

"I will deal with you later," Megatron raged at Dragstrip.

"Thanks to you, he has released a fatal disease!"  
Dragstrip froze.

"Oh _no_! Primus! He _touched _me! I'm going to _die_!"

"Dragstrip. You are not infected," Prowl informed the panicked Stunticon flatly, "I had not yet activated the virus when I came into contact with you."

Dragstrip fled, and Megatron suddenly launched himself across the room to the servocontrol Soundwave had attempted to access.

He managed to enclose the Autobot in a maximum magnitude forcefield.

Megatron turned to Prowl with a malevolent smile.

"No virus can escape a forcefield of this strength,"

Prowl regarded him calmly.

"I didn't say it could. The virus _can_ be held within a containment area. We don't know how to _destroy_ it permanently,"

Megatron stalked to him.

"_I _will destroy it, Autobot, by destroying _you_, along with this base."

X  
X  
X  
X

"Jazz, are you _sure_ about this?"

"Ratchet man, if you ask me that one more time, I'll magnetize you to the ceiling and do it myself!"

Jazz snapped, "Get _on _with it!"

"This goes against everything I stand for as a medic," Ratchet declared, preparing the potential vaccine with a slight tremble in his hands.

"I've taken a vow to _heal_, not _cause_ illness,"

Jazz nearly choked on his frustration, but managed to keep quiet.

He realized this was hard on everybody.

Particularly the medic, who tended to take the Autobots' injuries and illnesses personally.

And Optimus Prime, with the weight of the Universe on his shoulders at the moment.

Ratchet turned to the saboteur.

"I'm giving you a double dose of this vaccine. Once it works through your entire system, then, and _only_ then, I'll...I'll..."  
He couldn't even say it.

Jazz nodded, thinking -something felt wrong.

"Wait a tick man! _You _can't infect me, you'll get it too!"

Jazz stared at the medic, who looked back steadily.

"Jazz, if we get Prowl out, I'll be in direct contact with him. So I'm-"

"You're _not_," Jazz declared, jumping off the medbunk, "We can't risk you right off the bat! Ratchet man, that's why _I _volunteered. See if it works on me first! _Then _inoculate yourself, before we go and bust Prowl out of there!"

He snatched up the containment cylinder.

"Just tell me how to activate it man,"

Ratchet geared himself to argue, but realized time was running out.

He gave Jazz the vaccine, explained how to initiate the microcircuit, and led him to a medbunk that stood apart from the rest in an alcove.

"Jazz, I'll have to isolate you," he said painfully, "I'll put a forcefield around this bunk...but if the vaccine isn't effective..."  
Jazz knew what he couldn't say.

_If the vaccine doesn't work, you're toast._

X  
X  
X  
X

"Optimus, it looks like the Decepticons are evacuating the place," Silverbolt said anxiously, "They're removing pieces of equipment, weapons, you name it,"

"And we weren't harassed," Fireflight added.

Optimus Prime had sent Fireflight and Silverbolt on aerial reconnaissance of the Decepticon base.

The two jets, knowing now that Prowl had not deliberately put them in harm's way in the Bahamas (especially after Prime had quickly explained that Powerglide had been sent to New York that day specifically to guide them in, even though the red mech hadn't known either) came close to breaking the sound barrier getting there and back.

"That doesn't sound good," Ironhide said darkly, and glancing around the crowded control room, saw that everyone was in agreement.

Optimus Prime turned to the Ark supercomputer.

"Teletran, link to the Decepticon base's main communications device. I have to speak to Megatron,"

Even though the room was overfilled, complete silence reigned.

Each and every Autobot felt the danger closing in.

More than one mech present startled when Teletran suddenly crackled to life.

"What do you _want_ Prime?" Megatron snapped, clearly distracted.

"Megatron! Where is Prowl?"

The Decepticon sneered.

"The fool. He is dying as we speak, riddled with the deadly disease!"

"Megatron, listen to me," Optimus Prime said desperately, "Please. Let me send a team to bring him back to the Ark. My scientists are working on an antiviral agent. If they're successful, we will be able to control the virus and destroy it without endangering anyone else. We just need _time_."

"Time is a luxury you don't have Prime," the Decepticon declared, "I will blow this base sky-high, with or without your second in command inside. I will not risk further exposure!"

"You _cannot_ dispose of the virus that way Megatron! It will spread further-"  
"Do not take me for a fool Optimus! Once the infected one is dead, the virus will die too!"

"No," Prime said, almost pleading, "I have the diagnostics here, I'll transmit them to you as proof Megatron!"

The Decepticon waved his hand dismissively.

"Spare me your fairy tales Prime. Once we have removed necessary components, this base _will _be destroyed!"

"No!"

"One more thing Optimus Prime," Megatron said darkly, "Any rescue attempt on your part will result in the severest retaliation."

X  
X  
X  
X

Jazz paced within the isolated, confined space like a caged tiger.

He'd initiated the virus some time ago, and unless it killed silently and painlessly, (which they knew it didn't) had not experienced a single symptom.

"Ratchet man! How long do I have to wait?"

"You still don't feel anything?"

"Yeah, I feel like kicking Decepticon cans!"

Ratchet couldn't help chuckling, and by Primus it felt good.

He, Wheeljack, and Skyfire had been monitoring the saboteur in every way possible, and it was true: nothing untoward had shown up.

"So we can use the vaccine?"

Skyfire asked, more than a little hopefully.

"I think so Skyfire...and Primus help us if I'm wrong," Ratchet said.

He looked at his fellow scientists.

"Prowl," he said softly, glancing toward Jazz's medbunk.

"He's going to be in a bad way, isn't he," Wheeljack didn't ask.

"Yes," the medic confirmed, "And this is only solution I can think of to prevent the vaccine being destroyed by his infected system. A complete Energon transfusion. We have to remove every drop, get the vaccine into him, then get the transfusion into him as quickly as we can,"

Ratchet looked at his fellow scientists.

"It's very risky," he whispered, "Removing all his Energon could kill him alone, especially in a weakened state,"

"Ratchet? What's going on man?" Jazz spoke up suspiciously, and thethree of them parted.

"Jazz, we're trying to work out how to treat Prowl," Ratchet explained gently, approaching his quarantined space.

Jazz looked at his feet.

"Do you think they'll be able to get him out of there?" he asked with an un-Jazz-like waver in his tone.

"Yes Jazz," a determined, authoritive voice rumbled in answer, and Optimus Prime strode into the medbay.

"I'm tired of trying to make Megatron see sense. Actions speak louder than words, so it's time for some action on our part,"

This made Jazz feel better, and boosted all their determination.

Prime looked at the big Valkyrie.

"Ratchet, can you spare Skyfire?"

The jet looked at the medic uncertainly.

"Go ahead Skyfire."

The Autobot commander looked around at his focused scientists and gutsy saboteur.

"I'm proud of all of you. Good luck,"  
"You too man," Jazz called as Skyfire followed Optimus out.

Ratchet turned back to Wheeljack.

"It has to be Energon that's already partially broken down,"  
"Donors," the Lancia summed up correctly.

Ratchet sent out the call for Energon donors, and within astroseconds the medbay hall was clogged with volunteers.

_What a turnaround_, Ratchet couldn't stop himself thinking briefly but wryly.

Most of those Autobots would have just recently been happy to rip off the tactician's door-panels.

Wheeljack threw open the medbay doors.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker forced their ways to the front of the crowd and into the medbay, closely followed by Bluestreak and Ironhide.

"Ok, ok! Four of you are plenty," Ratchet declared to the mob, "But thank you all,"

"Ratchet! I'm the first you call if you need anyone else, hear me?" Cliffjumper asserted.

"No problem Cliffjumper."

Bluestreak paused near Jazz's medbunk, full of admiration for the saboteur.

"Jazz, are you ok?" the gunner asked worriedly.

"I'm fine! Bluestreak man, get out there and kick a few Decepticon afts for me, ok?"

"Definitely Jazz," the youngster grinned and joined Ironhide and the two Lamborghinis.

"I'm going to take a few microliters from each of you," Ratchet told them, "But you'll hardly feel it,"  
"Better not! I want to be wide awake when we're giving those Deceptiweasels the thrashing of a lifetime!" Sideswipe exclaimed, totally wired.

"Just get it over with!" Sunstreaker whimpered, right arm outstretched and left hand over his optics.

Jazz couldn't keep back a snicker at the yellow warrior's sudden wussiness.

Ratchet collected the donated Energon, and placed it in a device that would keep it at body temperature.

"All right Autobots, let's get out there," Ironhide declared, and turned to Ratchet.

"We're counting on you buddy," he said quietly.

Ratchet managed a thin smile.

"You get him back here, and I'll do everything under the sun to save his logical aft."

The donors left to join the hasty strategy session -Sunstreaker rubbing his inner elbow joint- with many Good Lucks and Be Carefuls from the medic, Jazz and Wheeljack.

Jazz thumped the wall, just once, with the heel of his hand, wishing he could be part of the rescue raid.

"Jazz, you're doing plenty," Wheeljack said quietly, studying the microcircuit schematics yet again, and picking up the saboteur's unspoken frustration.

"Ratchet man, how long..." Jazz trailed off with a shudder, as a hot wave began to creep through him.

Medic and engineer glanced at him, dropped what they were doing, and hurried over as the Porsche steadied himself against the foot of the medbunk.

"Jazz, lay down," Ratchet ordered anxiously.

The saboteur dizzily pulled himself onto the medbunk.

"Tell me exactly how it feels," the medic continued, hastily scanning the automatic monitoring he'd set up.

"Uh...hot," Jazz mumbled.

"Can you be more specific?" Wheeljack asked in concern.

"It hurts! All over!"

Jazz panted, clinging to the sides of the medbunk.

"Man, I can't imagine what Prowl's going through," he added shakily.


	16. Chapter 16

Prowl slowly sank onto the bare rack, feeling the edges of his CPU fading.

A somewhat irritating warning flashed in the bottom right of his optical field, and his vision was becoming blurred.

He barely had the strength to hold his head up, but refused to give in to unconsciousness.

He shivered badly and folded his arms across his midsection.

Prowl felt how high his body temperature was and was annoyed at the illogic.

All his joints and junctions ached terribly, and sharp pain went through him at random.

A queasy, gnawing sensation added geometrically to the discomfort.

Megatron had gotten the tactician back behind bars via the forcefield, but this time into a tiny cell of solid tritanium, including the door.

"There will be no escape this time, Autobot," the Decepticon sneered, before sealing the cell and deactivating the field.

Megatron turned to his most sensible Seeker.

"Thundercracker, I want you to observe the diseased Autobot. It would be inopportune not to gather what information we can.

Perhaps this virus can be re-worked to our advantage,"

The Decepticons had hesitantly returned, at Megatron's forceful prodding and assurances the virus was contained.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl reached slowly into a subspace pocket and studied the microcircuit.

It no longer contained the virus.

Prowl tried hard to concentrate.

If the master circuit was no longer active, it seemed likely the duplicates on Cybertron would simply eventually self-destruct.

The tactician forced himself to think clearly.

If this base _were _destroyed, all problems would be solved.

He'd not exposed any of the Decepticons, and he wouldn't expose any of the Autobots.

_The virus would still be active within my body shell however_,

Prowl said to himself, _And if the Decepticons were to find a way to use it without endangering themselves..._

Prowl shuddered.

His thoughts began to drift, and he struggled to drag them back.

He absently focused on his undamaged chrono and saw it was around mid-afternoon.

_Plenty of sunshine, _Prowl mused drowsily, _And that's what we need on Cybertron_...

X  
X  
X  
X

Thundercracker hesitantly sat in front of the screen that monitored the prisoner.

"Slagging _hell_," he cursed as the Autobot clutched his midsection.

He just didn't have it in him to watch another Transformer die.

Slowly and painfully at that.

The Seeker eyed him.

Thin Energon was beginning to leach from several junctions, and he was obviously having some difficulty staying online.

Thundercracker watched him weakly pass a hand over his chest, and realized for the first time the familiar red insignia was missing.

_That one definitely has bearings of steel_, he thought to himself.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl was regretful that he wouldn't be able to apologize in person for his recent behaviour.

He leaned his head on the wall, still clinging stubbornly to awareness, but it was slowly becoming a losing battle.

_And I'll be leaving one heck of a mess too_, he thought with a ghost of a smile, as he fuzzily watched the Energon from his upper body collect around his thigh components.

He ran a quick self-diagnostic while he still could, and found that Energon was also beginning to be forced back through his lines into his middle.

That explained the nausea and aching twinges.

_That'll cause an even bigger mess, eventually_, Prowl thought, swallowing hard.

"I hope you get that ingenious invention going Wheeljack," he whispered, to distract himself, "And that no one ever gives Ratchet as hard a time as I did that night,"

Prowl slowly let himself fall horizontal on the bench, shivering hard as he came into contact with it.

In his state the bare rack felt like a glacier.

With an effort that made his Energon pound, he dragged his legs up as well.

The tip of a door-panel just scraped the wall, and they were so painful and sensitive that it took a conscious effort not to make a sound.

Prowl recalled the horror he'd felt at seeing the symptoms played out on Cybertron; the Energon pouring from the non-sentient infected droids.

Strangely enough, suffering the same symptoms plus more, he felt no similar horror.

He could feel the pink fluid running from most junctions, dripping to the floor with an ominous regularity.

_Ratchet would kill me for getting into this state_, Prowl thought, managing a weak smile.

Prowl put hand to mouth as he coughed unexpectedly.

He squinted at the white palm, spattered with Energon.

X  
X  
X  
X

"We can't use this vaccine if it isn't effective!"

Jazz had begun bleeding from his shoulder junctions and hip-joints, mimicking the symptoms in Elita's data, and Ratchet was beside himself.

He flew back to the medbunk.

"Jazz! Speak to me!"  
The saboteur slowly pulled himself to a sitting position.

"Man, I'm not deaf," he managed, "_And_ I'm still in the land of the living,"

The medic stared at him.

There was no other bleeding that he could see, and Jazz was obviously lucid.

Wheeljack stepped up quietly beside him.

Ratchet exchanged a glance with the engineer.

They both dove for the automatic readings and ran an urgent diagnostic.

The antiviral agent was forcing the contagion back...and slowly destroying it.

"Jazz, the vaccine seems to be working, but I need you to keep calm," Ratchet said quickly.

_Keep calm, he goes! _

Jazz clapped hand to forehead, beyond the solar system and into deep space exasperated.

"You should talk man!"

Wheeljack snickered.

"Jazz, do you feel like you're going to be sick at all?"  
"No man, why?"

Ratchet exchanged another look with Wheeljack.

"The agent will work as a vaccine...but...I still don't know if it will help Prowl," he said carefully.

"Oh Primus...why not?" Jazz whispered, chilled.

The medic spoke gently.

"Jazz, he may be too far gone by the time we get to him,"

He pointed out something on the data sheet that Jazz couldn't make head or tail of.

"This virus causes bleeding, as you've seen, but these projected symptoms for a sentient, living Transformer, go one further,"

He gave the saboteur a pained look.

"Jazz, when we consume Energon, it converts and goes into our systems.

There it cycles and becomes, well, blood, humans would probably call it.

We bleed the cycled Energon when we're wounded.

The virus causes the body's Energon to _stop _cycling, and begin haemorrhaging from all junctions.

At the end-stage the sufferer's system begins to reject its own Energon, and will forcefully start to bring it up,"

"Prowl'll bleed to death, throwing up cycled Energon...blood," Jazz surmised flatly.

And correctly.

He turned away for an astrotick.

He touched a shoulder, and stared at the bled Energon on his hand.

"Can't they just administer it as soon as he's freed?"

Jazz asked softly.

"No. We have to remove the infected Energon from his system first.

Then we need to get all this donor Energon into him, as fast as possible, before the agent goes in.

Otherwise it'll simply be destroyed by the virus already in his system,"

Ratchet sighed.

"The real danger is if Prowl starts bringing Energon up before he gets back here. Once that happens, the virus seems to progress very quickly as the system weakens...and eventually shuts down."

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl weakly passed a hand over his face, and felt the warm wetness.

Energon was trickling from the corners of his optics.

He drew his knees up awkwardly, to try and ease the new raw throb from the edges of his damaged midsection.

_Oh Jazz...now I have an idea of what I put you through_, Prowl thought, hoping the saboteur would heal quickly and with a minimum of pain.

He'd talked himself into keeping a grip on his faculties, and it was working so far.

He was having trouble controlling the awful nauseous sensation though.

Prowl swallowed hard.

He felt instinctively that if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

X  
X  
X  
X

Thundercracker doggedly sat facing away from the cell screen, arms folded, his mind torturing him as he imagined what the Autobot was going through.

He started as the monitoring room door squealed open and despatched Astrotrain.

"What are you doing here?"

The Seeker growled.

The triplechanger gave him his arrogant grin.

"I volunteered."

X  
X  
X  
X

"It's vital you understand this," the medic said quietly, with a terminal-tingling seriousness to his tone.

"Once you come into contact with Prowl's electrofield, you will be immediately exposed to the virus,"

Ratchet had administered vaccinations to the rescue team Autobots, those who were going to come into physical contact with their second in command.

"He'll be bleeding badly, from most if not all, joints and junctions. Depending on how advanced it is, Prowl may already be bringing up Energon. If you _are_ infected through contact -and I'm told you'll feel it- _don't panic_. The symptoms are not immediate, and the antiviral agent will drive them back,"  
He gestured to Jazz as living proof.

The saboteur was still in isolation: Ratchet was taking no chances.

But as far as he could tell, the virus had been driven from Jazz's system.

The inoculated Autobots returned and joined the rescue team.

Optimus Prime looked the formidable group over.

He'd had to turn volunteers away just because of sheer numbers.

"All right Autobots, we've got the plan. You all know what to do. Operation: Recovery- let's roll."


	17. Chapter 17

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed Chameleon. I sincerely hope you're enjoying it! I'm enjoying your reviews. Thank you for helping my stats for Chameleon reach over 2,600 hits! PA

X  
X

The Autobots made a headlong dash to the Decepticon base.

This would be no sneak attack, it was going to be an all-out assault to rescue their second in command.

Just before the compound came into visual range, Hound and Mirage peeled off from the pack.

Sunstreaker called after them.

"Hey, Dream Team,"

"Yeah, Hotshot?"

Mirage called back.

"Don't come out without him, ok?"

"We won't," Hound promised, with a steely tone in his vocalizer.

X  
X  
X  
X

Chromia, monitoring the active main virus via their duplicates, felt as though her Energon had suddenly reversed and frozen.

She leapt up, transformed, and careened out of the lab to the main control area.

"Elita! _Elita_!" she cried, terror-stricken, "I have to speak to Ratchet! The virus! Prowl's virus! It's _reconfiguring_!"

X  
X  
X  
X

Ratchet received Elita-One's emergency transmission and data with horror.

"That means there's something preventing the reconfiguration with the Cybertronian duplicates, but _what_!"

Ratchet exclaimed desperately, running through a mental checklist, as Wheeljack quickly fed the Cybertronian data to Teletran.

Medic and engineer paused, a new realization striking them together.

"The rescue team! They'll be exposed to this new strain!"

"Ratchet man! What about Prowl!"

Jazz demanded, "What does it mean?"  
"Jazz, the antiviral agent isn't effective against a reconfiguration; we won't be able to stop it,"

Wheeljack said softly.

"You...you mean...they can't go after Prowl?" Jazz whispered, steadying himself against the medbunk behind him, feeling like his knee-joints had turned to water.

"Slag! _Slag_!" Ratchet punctuated each bellowed curse with a kick to the transmetal wall, ignoring the racket and pain in his foot.

"I am _not_ throwing in the towel! I'm _not_ losing an Autobot like _this_!"

Jazz and Wheeljack, broken up themselves, were taken slightly aback at the medic's outburst.

Ratchet leapt for the medbay communications console.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Autobots, increase speed!"

Optimus Prime ordered, as Mirage and Hound disappeared to the west.

The rescue team threw themselves forth, fanning out either side of Prime for maximum impact, the ground shaking beneath them.

Skyfire and the Aerialbots winged above, ready to supply air cover.

"Here we go guys!"

Ironhide called as the rocky base came into sight.

"I call Megatron!" Sunstreaker and Sideswipe yelled in one voice.

"No way! He's _mine_!" Cliffjumper whooped.

"Optimus Prime! The Decepticons are outside the base," Skyfire called, with the advantage of a sky view.

"Autobots! Remember, distract the Decepticons. Do not allow them back into their base, and destroy all equipment," Optimus rumbled.

The Decepticons, engaged in loading the jets, or hauling equipment out of the base, had barely a moment's notice.

The Autobots stormed the compound from east and west, Optimus Prime jack-knifing and collecting three Constructicons in one fell swoop.

"Decepticons, _attack_!"

Megatron transformed to killer rifle, landing in Soundwave's waiting paw.

"Seekers, follow _me_!"

Starscream shrieked, transforming.

"Starscream! This stuff is too heavy to carry in a dogfight," Dirge whimpered, referring to each jet's loaded components.

"Just do it!"

Skywarp took it into his head to attack Fireflight, at the rear of the formation.

The jet banked neatly out of the way as Silverbolt swooped from below, clipping the Seeker's wing and sending him spiralling Earthward.

"You _fool_!" Starscream shrilled at the young Decepticon, as Skywarp's cockpit swung open, sending several pieces of technology cascading to the ground.

Tracks, Sideswipe, Bluestreak and Sunstreaker fought as a four-pronged attack, each protecting his left.

Cliffjumper and Bumblebee were defending the base entrance, and had held off several attempts to get inside.

Inferno, formidable in vehicle mode, kept the three standing Constructicons at bay, backed up by Trailbreaker.

Ironhide fought alongside Optimus Prime, missing the black and white blurs of both Jazz and Prowl.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Don't start Astrotrain," Thundercracker warned bluntly.

The triplechanger swaggered in.

"Who's starting anything? You're getting paranoid TC,"

Astrotrain grinned at him.

He turned his attention to the cell monitor.

"The Autobot still kicking?"

"I don't know," Thundercracker mumbled, and it was true.

He hadn't been able to bring himself to check.

The Seeker gave the big mech a hard look.

"Why are you _really_ here, Astrotrain?"

"He still functions, barely," the triplechanger confirmed.

"Slag, get a look at all that Energon! Maybe I didn't miss the show after all,"

Thundercracker stared at him.

Astrotrain straightened up from the monitor and met the stare.

"What? Well I didn't get to finish him off before, so I'll watch this so-called virus do it instead!"

X  
X  
X  
X

"_Ratchet to Skyfire! The main virus is building defences. What's on Cybertron that's not here? _What's _affecting it_?"

The Valkyrie jet still circled the Decepticon base with the Aerialbots, covering the ground-based rescue operation.

Skyfire received the medic in dismay.

"Ratchet! Let me think for a tick!"

"_Make it quick Skyfire!_"

The big mech's CPU went blank, and he had an overwhelming sense of complete uselessness.

"_Rust _it!" Skyfire bawled, then had a sudden flash of insight.

"Ratchet! Wheeljack! Magnetic waves! Cybertron's _magnetic field_!"

X  
X  
X  
X

Mirage and Hound tore through the desert, taking a loop that would bring them to the Decepticon base's back door.

"Mirage, do you think we'll be in time?" the scout called uncertainly.

The Ligier didn't answer straight away.

They all knew it was a strong possibility that they may already be too late to help their second in command.

But Mirage refused to think that way.

"I hope so Hound!"

The rear of the compound came into sight through the dust, as well as visible weapons fire, and the two of them caught sight of one of the Aerialbots going head-to-head with a Seeker.

They screeched to a halt outside the concealed rear entrance and transformed.

Hound paused and listened carefully, but apart from the vague sounds of battle, couldn't detect anything.

Drawing weapons, scout and spy slipped into the base.

X  
X  
X  
X

A sudden wave of noise caught Astrotrain's and Thundercracker's attention, and the Seeker identified it as an enemy attack.

"Autobots!"  
Astrotrain exclaimed.

"Go if you want to," Thundercracker snapped, "I can manage to monitor a dying Transformer on my own. Maybe you can find more mechs to hurt,"

The blue Seeker wasn't anywhere near as thick as Megatron and Starscream liked to believe.

He'd been able to sneak a good look at the data Prime had transmitted, and felt reasonably sure the Autobots could, or were trying to, eradicate the deadly virus.

Thundercracker also believed the part where it said the virus couldn't be destroyed simply by doing away with an infected being.

He dared glance at the black and white Autobot.

It didn't take a medic to see he was fast running out of time.

X  
X  
X  
X

Prowl vaguely detected a low rumble, but through the Energon running from his audios, it was like listening to raindrops fall on sand.

He thought he felt a distant vibration, but it was hard to tell.

He was shaking with cold, but in actuality his body temperature was causing the bleeding Energon to bubble on contact.

Pain consumed him from crest to toes; there was no longer any separateness to it.

The gut-wrenching nausea was unbearable.

By now, Prowl literally lay in a puddle of his own bled Energon.

With a tremendous effort, he raised his right arm a little, placing his hand on the wall to try and at least turn over so he wasn't flat on his back.

The tactician couldn't keep his arm up.

His hand slid slowly down, leaving a pink trail.

One thought cut through the haze that had become his CPU.

_You failed your mission_.

That hurt, but not physically.

At least he'd die alone.

One of his secret fears had always been witnessing friends die beside him before he did.

That had happened to Prowl many times through the course of the war on Cybertron, but none of the deceased had been close to him.

Not like most of the Ark Autobots.

The tactician recalled certain Autobot reactions to the treatment he'd dished out.

Particularly Bluestreak, Ironhide and Bumblebee.

"I'm so sorry..." Prowl barely whispered, the thought giving him a new non-physical pain.

"Jazz...Prime..."

Prowl suddenly recalled, with a moment of clarity, what he'd been unable to remember.

The sun.

If jettisoned into the flaming star, the gamma radiation would vaporize his body, leaving no trace of the virus.

Prowl had assumed he was being monitored in this cell and hadn't much cared.

But now he had to make whoever was watching him understand.

Energon was running from both corners of both optics; his sight was almost gone.

Prowl coughed, wincing at the exquisite pain from his door-panels, unable to wipe the Energon from his chin.

"Listen...to me," he said, with as much volume and authority he could muster.

"The sun...it's the sun..."

He gasped and coughed again, bitter Energon filling his throat.

X  
X  
X  
X

Medic, engineer and saboteur stared at each other.

"_Cybertron's_ magnetic field! But _Earth _has a magnetic field too, so does the sun, and they're not helping..."

Ratchet trailed off.

Wheeljack was thinking hard and fast.

"It must be something _adding_ to Cybertron's field," he said slowly, hand on chin.

"Man, that's _it_!" Jazz suddenly cried, leaping off his medbunk.

"The pulsar! It's the _pulsar_!"

Most Autobots had witnessed the supernova, the explosion of a supergiant star at the end of its life.

The remnants had formed the cosmological phenomenon.

A pulsar was an incredibly dense region of space that sent out intense, regular magnetic and radio waves.

The supernova in Cybertron's neighbourhood had been so spectacular and uncommon, that Autobot and Decepticon factions had laid down weapons for a full cycle to observe it.

It had illuminated the energy-starved planet for weeks.

"The waves are keeping the _duplicates _from reconfiguring, but how does that help _us_?" Wheeljack asked desperately.

It was the medic's turn to think hard and fast.

"We need a Cybertronian duplicate," Ratchet said quickly.

X  
X  
X  
X

Hound and Mirage moved carefully through the empty tunnels, occasionally pausing to listen.

Conscientious as they both were, in their focused state neither noticed the glow of feral ruby optics.

X  
X  
X  
X

The other Aerialbots, having seen the move Silverbolt put on Skywarp, quickly took it up.

The scattered, spilled components were quickly dealt with by the ground Autobots.

And the loudest cheer of the day went to Skyfire.

He clipped Starscream on the tail-fins, just enough to make him wobble.

The Valkyrie rose below the disoriented Seeker, then Skyfire executed a perfect barrel-roll with the Decepticon jet gravitised to his wing, pausing mid-roll.

Starscream landed like a tonne of bricks, nose-first, in the desert sand.

"Megatron! Release my second in command _immediately_!"

Optimus Prime yelled over his jeering, whooping troops.

"Never Prime! This base will be destroyed, and _all _of you along with it!"

Ravage suddenly came leaping back to Soundwave and straight into his chest.

The large mech listened to the felinoid Casseticon as he fired randomly.

"Megatron! Ravage reports Autobot invaders!"

X  
X  
X  
X

"_Astrotrain! Thundercracker! Two Autobots have infiltrated the base! Do not allow them near the diseased one, or I will melt you both into scrap_!"

"Aye Megatron!"

Astrotrain exclaimed.

He leapt to his feet, hand weapon at the ready.

"Slag," Thundercracker hissed to himself, standing up.

This was _not _according to the private plan he'd mapped out in his CPU.

X  
X  
X  
X

Elita-One watched the macabre scenario play out via their "offspring" viruses, the other females crowded behind her.

All with the crushing sensation of utter helplessness, helplessness so vivid that it can never be forgotten.

"Elita...he's bleeding to death, isn't he," Chromia whispered, deducing the duplicate's readings as Firestar clung to her, face buried in the second in command's shoulder.

"_Ratchet to Elita-One! Come in, dammit!"_

The sudden sound in the silent room startled them all.

They each hesitated for a split astrotick before diving to reply, but Elita got there first.

"Ratchet, this is Elita, go ahead," she gasped.

"_We need one of your duplicates, pronto! I still might be able to save Prowl and wipe out this slagging virus!"  
_The heard the last-ditch determination and desperation in the medic's tone.

"Ratchet, Shockwave has a level-ten forcefield around the spacebridge," Moonracer spoke up painfully, "We can't get near the controls, and by the time we try to disable it..."

_It will be too late_.

The unspoken sentence hung in the air like a sinister mist.


	18. Chapter 18

"I'm not letting a slagging _forcefield _stop us!"

Ratchet declared and switched to Earth communications.

"Autobots! This is your medic! I need someone to hop the spacebridge and get a duplicate virus from our ladies on Cybertron!"

Jazz, almost completely recovered, practically crackled with anticipation and his own determination.

He'd be there and back in an astrotick if he were out there.

X  
X  
X  
X

Optimus Prime received his medic's transmission, as did the rest of the rescue team.

"Autobots! Volunteers!"  
Prime called over the battle noise, covering Trailbreaker and Inferno with his ion blaster as they destroyed the last of the scattered components.

"I'll go Prime!"  
"Me too!"

Tracks and Bluestreak detached themselves from the battle, transformed, and made an all-out sprint for the spacebridge.

"_Stop them_!"

Megatron bawled wildly at his grounded air power.

Thrust and Ramjet got themselves back in the air and took off after the fast-disappearing dust cloud.

"Don't stop for _anything_," Tracks panted to the young gunner.

"I won't, believe me!"

Bluestreak exclaimed, swerving sharply to dodge some shots from the maroon Conehead.

A strafing run by Ramjet caused the Corvette to brake and skid slightly, almost hitting the silver ZX's back end.

"Rust them!"  
Tracks exclaimed and took to the sky, taking a risky dive straight at the two Decepticons.

He made good use of his black beam gun as Bluestreak slid to a stop, transformed, and dashed to the spacebridge controls.

He quickly set and activated it as the two Coneheads swooped about blindly, swearing and firing random shots.

"_Tracks_!"

Bluestreak yelled, transforming and shooting into the spacebridge as it began glowing.

The warrior streaked over the top, landed, and braked hard, sliding as the spacebridge opened.

X  
X  
X  
X

"This _has_ to be it," Hound hissed, as he and Mirage came upon a tritanium cell door.

The spy glanced into the small room adjoining it and spotted the blank cell monitor screen.

"It is," Mirage confirmed, "I think they've been monitoring Prowl,"

"Let's get him out of here,"

They quickly examined the sealed door.

"We better try this without firepower, in case there are any Decepticons about. We can't let anyone else get infected," Mirage pointed out.

They braced themselves.

"Ready? One, two-"

They both drove their shoulders into the door.

Effectively.

It burst inward, the momentum catapulting spy and scout forward.

"Oh Primus-" Mirage gasped and Hound gripped his shoulders from behind.

Their second in command was _covered_, literally, with Energon.

Ratchet had warned them, but it was still a shock to see it up close and personal.

The pink fluid poured from every part of him.

There was a puddle running across the floor where it was overflowing from the bench.

They crept forward.

The tactician was so still.

"Slagging _thugs_!"

Hound burst out, recognizing Astrotrain's handiwork.

That vehement curse, muffled and incoherent though it was to him, got through to Prowl.

He made a valiant attempt to sit up.

He couldn't move, but the two Autobots leapt forward at the faint moan.

"Prowl, it's Mirage, and Hound,"

The Ligier dropped to one knee in front of the rack, and laid a hand on the tactician's shoulder as Hound checked over his midsection.

"No...the virus," Prowl managed with an effort, but not able to shrug away from them.

"Prowl, we've got an antiviral agent," Hound told him quickly, "And we're going to get you out of here,"

They sat him up gently, feeling how high his core temperature was, and the Energon streaming from him.

"Listen...to me," Prowl gasped, "Weapon...on ocean...floor...destroy it,"

He stopped and swallowed hard, and his rescuers felt a tremble go through him.

"Mirage, we'll have to carry him," Hound said quickly, "He can't even sit up,"

The scout scooped Prowl up, trying hard not to make contact with his piteous door-panels.

And was appalled at the tactician's difference in weight.

"Slag! Mirage, I'd say he's lost more than half his Energon," the Jeep hissed over his shoulder.

"_Leave _me," Prowl managed to snap, "That's an order,"  
"I thought Prime stripped your authority," Hound said lightly.

"Therefore we outrank you Prowl. And we're not leaving you for all the Energon cubes in the galaxy," Mirage added.

X  
X  
X  
X

Elita-One and her troops crouched, silent and hidden, around the spacebridge control level.

She had nearly her entire compliment of Autobot females with her; only a handful had remained to guard their base.

And had complained about being the ones left behind.

Most forcefields weren't visible.

This one was, due to its magnitude.

Elita studied the shimmering glass-like dome carefully, trying to narrow down a weak spot, or stress point.

She hoped whichever Autobots had elected to come and collect the duplicate were packing reasonable firepower.

As it stood now, she couldn't get in, and they wouldn't be able to get out through it.

Chromia, sticking with her commander, nudged Elita and gestured.

Shockwave's contingent of Seekers had scurried to life, and a few astroseconds later, a column of light cascaded to the spacebridge launch.

X  
X  
X  
X

Bluestreak felt himself materialize on a solid surface, and quickly checked to make sure everything was still attached.

Tracks, still in winged Corvette mode, managed to transform from his upside-down position, and spat out a mouthful of Oregon desert.

"You ok?"

Bluestreak asked, a giggle in his tone at the warrior's disgusted expression.

"I will survive," Tracks said dryly, "Come on, let's get moving."

They stepped out of the transport module, and Shockwave's troops opened fire.

The Autobots transformed and split up, firing retaliatory shots for all they were worth.

"Tracks! Elita-One and the others! They're out there!"

Bluestreak called, spotting the unique pink bodypaint of the female commander as they began popping out of their foxholes.

"_Tracks! Bluestreak! Come in! This is Moonracer. Shockwave has a level-ten forcefield around the spacebridge compound. You'll need to destroy the force generator, we can't get to you!"_

"Moonracer! Understood," Tracks replied, leaping behind a console and taking out two Seekers.

"Tracks to Bluestreak! Where are you!"

Bluestreak was leading a trio of Seekers on a merry dance through the surrounding control areas, dodging shots that instead were damaging the Cybertronian consoles.

"Haha! I'll have to quote a friend here: you couldn't hit an Autobot with a moonbeam!"

The young gunner yelled cheekily, swerving to avoid another barrage.

"Hold still, Autobot scum!"

One of the jets shrieked out of sheer frustration.

The unintended target crackled, then went up in a cracking bang as Tracks appeared in the doorway.

The blast sent the silver Datsun across the room, almost to the warrior's feet.

"Bluestreak! You did it! The forcefield is disappearing!"

The Corvette exclaimed as the gunner transformed.

X  
X  
X  
X

Hound and Mirage moved as quickly as they could through the base, back the way they'd come.

The tactician was wavering in and out of consciousness.

"_Leave_ me," was the only thing he was gasping through his barely-lucid moments.

Scout and spy ignored his words.

"Hound, let me take him," Mirage said, once they'd cleared the cell block and were back in the tunnels.

The Jeep's front was stained with Prowl's Energon.

"Ok, just let him rest for a astrotick," Hound relented, carefully sitting the Datsun against the tunnel wall, "He's shaking like a loose wingnut, and I think his temperature is _still_ climbing,"

They kneeled either side of him, leaning over to shield him as a muffled blast rocked the base and sent loose debris showering down.

They brushed the dirt off as well as they could.

Mirage made a gentle but futile attempt to wipe the pink liquid from the tactician's optics.

Prowl coughed, choked, and violently brought up a shocking amount of Energon, Energon of a colour and quantity that no Transformer should ever bring up.

"Primus..." Mirage gasped, as the tactician panted, shaking.

"Mirage, look," Hound said grimly, as they gently supported Prowl.

The scout gestured to the white chest, the colour barely visible through the Energon, scraped patches and dents.

The Datsun's bodypaint was slowly turning a pale ash-grey.

They attempted to pick him up, but the tactician resisted to the best of his ability.

"Prowl, what're you doing?" Hound exclaimed, "We've got to get you out of here,"

"The virus...you _can't_...infectious...all the Autobots..."

He coughed and retched, bringing up more Energon.

"Prowl, I'm not arguing with you," Mirage said firmly, dropping to one knee to pick him up.

"Listen, _please_," Prowl gasped, "Sun...send me...into sun...gamma radi...ation..._now_...destroy...body...and virus,"

"What's he _saying_?" Hound asked, in desperate bewilderment.

"Throw him into the sun, _now_, that it'll destroy his body and the virus," Mirage deduced grimly.

"_Alive_!"

"_Yes_," Prowl whispered.

"No way Prowl, we'll take our chances with the vaccine," Hound snapped.

Prowl was extremely dizzy, and the pain and nausea was engulfing him.

Hound and Mirage's voices seemed to be coming from the bottom of a deep well.

He struggled to hear and understand, and he was _so cold_.

X  
X  
X  
X

Thundercracker had quickly gone to "investigate" the opposite end of the base to where he figured any Autobot rescuers would try to enter.

Astrotrain had tailed him, as the Seeker had hoped he would, leaving the cell unguarded.

"There's nothing here," the triplechanger concluded bitterly, "I'm going where the action is!"

Astrotrain dashed out, and Thundercracker heard him transform and exit via the sky tunnel, in shuttle mode.

The battle was still going strong, as far as the Seeker could hear.

He spun at a sudden sound, middle turning to ice at the thought of Megatron realizing he was letting the Autobots escape.

Instead, he made visual contact with three Autobots.

They'd obviously taken a wrong turn.

They stared at one another for a split astrotick, then the disappearing one spoke up.

"I'd stay back if I were you," he warned in a low tone.

Thundercracker gazed, horrified, at the Energon running down his front, the visibly-trembling second in command he carried, and the pink fluid on the other Autobot.

"You came left at the Great Divide, didn't you," he said flatly, referring to the mammoth rockfall that marked one of the catacombs at its split point.

"You need to go back and then go straight on; that'll take you out of this base,"

The Autobots stared at him.

"_Go_,"

Thundercracker asserted.

"Why should we trust you?" Mirage said flatly.

"Because I don't want to slagging die in a pool of my own Energon!" the Seeker snapped, "You've got all the genius scientists, haven't you! Your medic is trying to destroy that virus, isn't he? Now _go_!"

The Decepticon glanced at the unconscious tactician, then the two Autobots risking their afts, against all odds, to rescue one of their own.

Thundercracker had a brief moment of pure envy.

He highly doubted he could look forward to an attempted rescue by _his _faction if he were in the black and white mech's position.

The two Autobots looked at each other.

"You've got brains," Hound said levelly, and they made their way back down the tunnel.

X  
X  
X  
X

The females surged forward as the forcefield flickered briefly, then faded out.

Elita-One coolly called her orders as the skirmish boiled in and around the spacebridge compound.

Datsun and Corvette ran to join them, to help and to take custody of the duplicate virus.

"Firestar!" Tracks yelped, and dive-tackled the red and gold female out of the path of a Seeker's deadly run.

"Nice to see you too Tracks," she couldn't help laughing as he clambered up, then pulled her to her feet.

"Apologies. That was _very _ungentlemanly," Tracks commented.

"You can practice your chivalry later! Let's get going!" Chromia exclaimed.

"You miserable glitches! You cannot escape!"  
A new, cold voice cut through the battle noise.

Elita stood her ground as Shockwave waved his Seekers into submission and strode forward.

"Shockwave! Do you even know why these Autobots are here?"

She called levelly as Tracks and Bluestreak showed themselves.

The big Decepticon paused.

Elita-One pulled herself to her full height, and Chromia came to stand beside her.

"Optimus Prime and his scientists are trying desperately to destroy a deadly virus, a virus that was discovered not far from here. A virus that could kill _all_ of us,"

A couple of the Seekers backed up a step or two.

The Autobots collectively held their figurative breath as Shockwave hesitated.

"_Lies_!"

He burst forth suddenly, and the jets opened fire again.

"That's our cue!" Tracks exclaimed, and he and Bluestreak transformed.

"We'll cover you!"  
Moonracer yelled as they blazed toward Shockwave and the spacebridge module.

The two Autobots dodged the Decepticon with the help of the female firepower, and hurtled into the control room.

"Stop them!" Shockwave bawled, transforming and firing a bolt of pure energy at the transporter.


	19. Chapter 19

"Mirage, can you believe him?" Hound marvelled, referring to Thundercracker.

They'd followed his directions, and sure enough, were coming upon light from a tunnel opening.

The Ligier was just as surprised as the scout.

"He must have read that data," he said slowly.

Prowl had completely lost awareness, but still shivered badly.

And he was still losing Energon.

They reached the opening and paused.

Hound transformed, and Mirage carefully set the tactician in the Jeep, his feet on the very edge of the green bonnet.

The spy activated his commlink.

"Skyfire, we're ready! Operation: Recovery Part One complete, now it's up to you,"

"_I'll be right there guys. How is Prowl_?"

The white jet asked anxiously.

"Not good," Mirage answered shortly.

He transformed and the two of them moved out into the desert at a level pace, hearing the big jet swoop low over the mountainous base.

The Jeep and Ligier saw and felt the big Valkyrie pass just a few metres over them.

He touched down smoothly, slowing slightly as he released the boarding ramp.

Hound increased speed, Mirage powering along beside.

They split to get around a stray boulder Skyfire had passed over, and the Ligier threw himself into a slide to avoid sudden, rapid weapons fire.

Astrotrain had spied the Valkyrie detach from the Aerialbot formation and decided Skyfire should become his personal target practice.

Hound hurtled on board, but the spy was now several metres behind them.

"Skyfire, _go_!" Mirage cried, "I'm right behind you,"

The Valkyrie closed the ramp as the Ligier fired at the triplechanger to distract him.

Astrotrain spotted three Aerialbots headed his way too.

He didn't feel at all confident about taking them on, solo, so he swooped back to the main battle, pinging cursory shots at the blue and white Autobot.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had peeled around the base to provide Skyfire with ground backup, and they covered the Ligier as he tore off in a cloud of dust.

Mirage flew past the rear of the base, intending to get back to the Ark the same way he and Hound had come in.

X  
X  
X  
X

"I've _never _been so glad to see this dusty desert," Tracks panted, as they shot out of the spacebridge.

"Bluestreak, are you all right?"  
"I'm fine Tracks! That was some lightshow though!"

Tracks took to the sky, and Bluestreak hit top speed as they made for the Ark.

X  
X  
X  
X

"Hound...?"

"Not good Skyfire," the Jeep answered grimly, as Prowl brought up a shocking amount of Energon.

"Oh Primus..."

"Hound? Hound! What now!" Skyfire demanded sharply of the startled scout.

"Skyfire, he's throwing up coagulated Energon as well,"

"Oh _no_, that means it's stopped cycling altogether. His systems will start shutting down,"

"Come on Prowl, hang in there," Hound said desperately as the Datsun moaned and shivered.

Skyfire picked up Tracks and Bluestreak on course for the Ark.

"Skyfire to-"

"_We got it Skyfire_!"

Bluestreak exclaimed.

"I hope Mirage gets back ok," Hound said, deeply concerned.

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Bluestreak and Tracks didn't slow as they neared the Ark, just burst in and rocketed through the corridors until they reached the medbay.

"Ratchet we got it, we got it!"

Bluestreak exclaimed, as Tracks handed over a containment cylinder.

The medic almost snatched it in his haste to get it prepared.

"Tracks! Bluestreak! Where's Prowl?" Jazz spoke up desperately, "Is he-"

"Skyfire's on his way Jazz,"  
Tracks told him, leaning against a wall.

Several small battle wounds had conspired and were beginning to hurt him.

"I'm all right," he added at Ratchet's concerned glance.

Bluestreak had managed to get away without a scratch.

"Ratchet, is this going to work?" the gunner asked quietly

"We hope so Bluestreak,"  
Wheeljack answered him.

"You two better get out of here before Skyfire arrives," Ratchet added, working over the microcircuit, "I don't want anyone else exposed."

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Skyfire banked suddenly and descended sharply, landing as close to the Ark's entrance as he could manage.

Ratchet and Wheeljack dashed to the jet.

"For slag's sake, where's Mirage!" the medic demanded as Hound disembarked, carrying the dangerously ill tactician.

"He's on his way," Skyfire filled in, quickly transforming.

Medic and engineer faltered for just a split astrotick at Prowl's condition and appearance, shocked.

Ratchet quickly relieved Hound of the tactician, cursing as he too felt his decrease in weight.

"Primus, he's as hot as fire," Wheeljack muttered as the four of them rushed to the medbay, a door-panel brushing his arm as he helped Ratchet support Prowl.

Skyfire's commlink chirped as they stormed through the empty corridors.

Ratchet had been instrumental in evacuating the Ark, to prevent any more exposure to the virus.

"_Mirage to Skyfire! I can't shake Astrotrain_!"  
"Go," Ratchet snapped, "And for slag's sake make sure you don't expose that tri-faced changeling."

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Thundercracker shot up out of the base like a rocket and levelled, firing off a few shots at nothing to make himself look good.

"Decepticons, retreat!" Megatron bellowed, "Starscream, Skywarp, _now_,"

The two jets strafed the scattered Autobots on their flyover and each sent two guided incendiary blasts into the base.

"Autobots, fall back!" Optimus Prime ordered, "Fall back and take cover!"

"Prime, did they make it out?"Bumblebee almost begged.

The commander paused, not entirely certain.

"Yes! They did!"

Sideswipe panted, throwing himself down beside the Volkswagen, "But I think Mirage might be in trouble. Astrotrain cut him off from Skyfire and he took off to the west,"

The base went up behind them in an almighty, ground-shaking mushroom cloud, showering rocks and debris for hundreds of metres.

The Autobots threw themselves over injured and smaller comrades as the Decepticons beat a hasty retreat, only too glad to get out of there.

A dust-camouflaged Inferno slowly rose to his knees as the debris began settling, listening carefully.

"Hey Inferno, I owe you one," a filthy Cliffjumper remarked, clambering to his feet.

The big mech had thrown himself over the red Minibot, inarguably keeping him from being tenderised by the flying boulders.

"_Ssshhh_," the fire vehicle hissed, cocking his head, "Listen - I think that's Skyfire,"

"He's gone to assist Mirage," Optimus Prime correctly guessed.

"All right Autobots, let's get back to the Ark."

X  
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Astrotrain, in locomotive form, had pursued the Ligier into a "cave" formed from a collapsed outcrop.

He was too large to follow, and was circling in shuttle mode, firing off random shots to keep the Autobot pinned.

Any other time, Mirage would simply fight back, before making a run with his superior speed.

But he knew if he were hit, the virus -if he was infected, which was likely- would latch onto the Decepticon and spread further.

Mirage lay low, listening to the triplechanger circle, and wondered if he could talk sense into him.

"Astrotrain!"

He addressed the big Decepticon, "Listen to me! I know you know about the virus-"

"I don't believe there's any virus, Autoclod!"

Astrotrain cut in, firing consecutive shots at the cave's already precarious overhang.

"_Skyfire to Mirage! Are you all right?_"

"Skyfire! I'm fine, I just can't move!"

Mirage replied in relief.

"_I've got Astrotrain in visual range, I'll be there in an astrotick,_"

The big jet angled in, taking the Decepticon by surprise.

Mirage took the opportunity and shot out of the cramped space.

Skyfire was careful to keep his distance, but fired a warning shot across Astrotrain's wing.

"Skyfire! Come back for more? You won't get away from me this time," the triplechanger declared.

"Astrotrain! Keep your distance!" Skyfire called in warning, "I've been in direct contact with Prowl!"

"This slag again! Can't you Autobots come up with a better story?"

He made a sudden swoop at the Valkyrie, who banked sharply and cursed.

"You metal moron! I've been exposed, and so has my friend down there! Do you want to risk it? Our second in command could be dying as we speak!"

"Well I'd hoped my once-over would keep him down. Maybe this will do it _permanently_,"

"You miserable slagging purple excuse for a trash heap! You deserve to suffer ten times more than Prowl is!" Mirage absolutely exploded, transforming and firing on the malevolent Decepticon.

"You Autobots all disgust me! One is as weak as the other!"

Skyfire kept his temper in check, and fired two well-placed shots that sent the triplechanger spiralling to the desert, trailing smoke from both wings.

"Slagging idiot," Skyfire muttered.

"Come on Mirage, let's get back to the Ark and into isolation."

X  
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Ratchet swore as the unconscious, shaking tactician threw up yet another lot of Energon.

"I can't believe he still has any Energon _left _in his system," Wheeljack said grimly.

The pink fluid had stopped bleeding from joints and junctions, but was being vomited at a shocking rate.

"We can't do anything until he stops bringing it up.

If we start forcing the transfer the donor Energon will just come straight back up the same way," the medic pointed out.

They worked around him, trying desperately to lower his temperature.

Jazz faced away from the central medbunk, leaning back on the wall, face in hands.

He could clearly see the state his friend was in, and it chilled him to the core.

Skyfire and Mirage dashed into the medbay then, sealing the doors behind them, and the Valkyrie immediately administered a second inoculation to each of them.

This was the one Ratchet had isolated from the Cybertronian duplicate, dosed with strong magnetic waves.

The hope was it would protect them from Prowl's reconfigured virus.

"Is there anything else we can do?"

Skyfire asked, referring to himself, Hound and Mirage.

"Yes...go and talk to Jazz," Ratchet said in a low tone, glancing at the upset saboteur.

The Porsche still leaned on the wall, inside his isolated space, staring at nothing.

The rescue team looked at each other, then the Ligier slowly wandered to the saboteur.

"Jazz...I think he's saved all our lives, twice," Mirage said softly, "Prowl knew the Constructicon superweapon was situated on the ocean bed. It looks like he infected _himself _so he could deactivate it,"

"Oh man..." Jazz barely whispered, slowly sliding to the floor.

Since they'd learned of the virus's activation, Jazz had assumed it had been accidental, or by the Decepticons somehow.

This revelation was much harder to deal with.

"Jazz...that's why he's second in command."

The spy said gently.

"Um, do you feel ok now Jazz?"

Jazz didn't feel ok.

He felt sick through and through, but not from the virus

Prowl coughed, and retched again, straining painfully, but there was very little left to bring up.

"Ok, this is it, finally," Ratchet said quickly, seeing the Datsun throw up barely a trickle of thin Energon.

They got the donor Energon into his depleted system as quickly as they could.

"Now comes the fun part," Ratchet said grimly, "We infect him with this duplicate virus, which will halt the main one's reconfiguration, because of the magnetic waves. Then we administer the original and new antiviral agents, and hope to Primus they don't conflict,"

The medic performed these tasks with infinite care, Wheeljack assisting.

There was complete silence in the medbay, apart from an occasional sound from a medical instrument being picked up or switched on.

After what seemed an eternity, medic and engineer finally laid down their instruments, Ratchet with a world-weary sigh.

"Oh man...is he going to be ok?" Jazz hardly dared to whisper.

The medic slowly turned.

"Jazz...all we can do is wait,"

He said softly.

"I'm not going to lie to you. It doesn't look good. There's so much damage to Prowl's system from the virus reconfiguring. If I'd been able to get to him sooner..."

Ratchet trailed off.

He looked at the bowed heads of the rescuers, the engineer, the saboteur.

"Keep your fingers crossed."

He looked at them again, realizing for the first time how Energon-stained they all were, including Wheeljack.

"Washrack, now. All of you," Ratchet ordered, pointing to the adjoining medbay facility.

He turned back to his patient as they slowly wandered out.

"Ratchet man, what about you?"

Jazz spoke up quietly.

"I'm not finished yet Jazz."

He treated the tactician's gaping midsection, then went to work on the ruined door-panels.

Ratchet cursed silently; each time he touched Prowl, great pieces of bodypaint were coming away.

The medic worked slowly and with great care, trying not to cause the Datsun any further suffering.


	20. Chapter 20

I've said it before, but I have to say it again - **Thank you** to everyone who has read and reviewed Chameleon. The stats for this fic have reached over 3,500 hits, which to me is completely mind-blowing. Thank you all! PA

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There had been several injuries sustained in battle, none serious, thank Primus.

Hoist was attending to them to the best of his skills.

Ratchet felt bad that he wasn't there to treat the wounded Autobots, but nothing short of a life or death matter would have made him leave the quarantined medbay.

Not until he was a hundred and ten percent sure that he, and none of the exposed Autobots, were no longer a risk to anyone.

"Ratchet man...any change?"

Jazz asked softly from his isolated-within-isolation space.

Ratchet knew how badly he must want to be there for his friend.

If nothing else, to just lay a hand on the tactician's shoulder and talk to him.

"Not yet Jazz," he sighed.

Neither he nor Wheeljack, or any of the rescue team, had displayed any symptoms so far.

The second vaccination was clearly working for them.

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For three days Prowl's condition remained unchanged.

Optimus Prime sent search-and-destroy parties into the ocean, once they pinpointed the exact location of the Decepticon weapon.

After extensive tests and diagnostics, Ratchet relented and freed the still symptom-free Autobots.

He'd prepared a large-scale batch of antiviral agent in powder form, which had been distributed over what had been the Decepticons' desert base.

Mirage and Hound had quietly filled him in on how much Energon Prowl had left behind in the cell, and the medic was taking no chances with such a virulent strain.

He'd also produced enough of the potent vaccine to inoculate all the Autobots, as well as Elita's troops.

Prime himself had delivered the vaccine to them over the spacebridge.

The commander was full of praise for the Autobot battle/rescue team, as well as the females.

The rest of the Autobots were treating the team as heroes.

And the entire Ark's view of their second in command had gone from rock-bottom to cosmic heights.

They were all just praying they could tell him so in person.

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Ratchet glanced up as Jazz slipped back into the medbay.

He'd spent most of his time next to Prowl's medbunk, usually falling into recharge right where he was.

"Still the same Jazz,"

The medic said before the Porsche could ask.

Between Jazz, Prime, Ironhide and Bluestreak, (apart from Ratchet, who had hardly set foot outside of the medbay) Prowl was never alone.

Jazz sat and looked his friend over.

Ratchet hadn't touched any of the dents or scrapes yet, pointing out that the Datsun would be in enough pain as it was, _if_ he regained consciousness.

He'd covered his midsection and door-panels with protective flexseals however.

The last thing he wanted Prowl to have to deal with now was an infection.

His bodypaint was still an awful ash-grey, and his blank optics were almost colourless, like water.

"Prowl man, I've cleaned your quarters. I even managed to get the Energon stain off your bunk," Jazz whispered, lightly laying his hand over the tactician's.

"Don't let all that work go to waste. And Prowl...we _all _want to tell you how proud we are to have you as our second in command."

X  
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Ratchet had turfed Optimus Prime and Jazz out of the medbay, with dire threats that if they didn't go and get some decent rest, he'd sedate them both for a week.

He turned to the tactician, wishing there was something more he could do.

Ratchet rubbed his optics with the heels of his hands, then leaned over slightly to check Prowl's readings, placing his hand on the edge of the medbunk.

And looked down in disbelief at the slight touch.

The black and white mech had tried to take the medic's hand.

"Ratch...et...friends?"  
Prowl murmured.

"Oh Primus! Prowl! _Prowl_!"

The medic rambled, beside himself with relief.

"Friends, yes, always! Primus...how do you feel?"

Ratchet asked in concern, medical instincts overriding his own excitement and relief.

"Sore...can't move," Prowl mumbled.

"Prowl, listen -you've been very, very ill, and you need to rest," Ratchet said gently.

The tactician drifted back into unconsciousness as he spoke, but hearing Prowl, _conscious_, had sent the medic's mood skyrocketing.

And his diagnosis.

X  
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Within seconds the entire Ark knew that the second in command had briefly regained awareness.

"About slagging time!" was how Sunstreaker indelicately summed up their relief.

"Prime, this is an excellent sign," the medic said to the commander softly, later that night.

Jazz had taken up his usual spot next to the medbunk, but was also listening to Ratchet.

"Prowl's still in a bad way. His system was terribly weakened by the virus, and the total Energon transfusion, plus the second virus. It's trying hard to regulate the new Energon and get it cycling properly. It's like trying to pour water through a paper tunnel at the moment though. He still bleeds a little. But I think he's going to pull through,"

"Thanks to you Ratchet," Optimus Prime said warmly.

"It was far from a solo effort Prime."

"Prowl?"

Commander and medic turned at the saboteur's soft word.

"Jazz...Prime..."

Prowl whispered, stirring slightly.

"We're here man," Jazz assured him, hand on shoulder as Prime gently took his arm.

The tactician's optics had regained just a hint of blue, and the ash-grey of his bodypaint was starting to fade.

Optimus Prime cleared his vocalizer.

"Prowl, I want a word with you. What you did was dangerous, stupid and reckless...and one of the most courageous things I've ever witnessed. I'm so proud of you."

"Sorry Optimus," Prowl mumbled, and they laughed gently.

Jazz couldn't resist any longer.

He leaned over and gave the Datsun a careful hug.

"Some bonds never break man," Jazz whispered in his audio.

Prowl struggled to return the gentle hug, but could only get as far as raising his wrists.

"Prowl, how about some Energon? It'll do you a world of good," Ratchet urged.

"I promise...I won't...spit it at you Jazz," Prowl whispered with an effort.

"Deal man," Jazz grinned.

The saboteur gently spooned in a little of the warm Energon, all Prowl could manage before drifting into unconsciousness again.

X  
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Once Prowl regained full consciousness, his recovery progressed fairly quickly.

"Prowl, can you manage some more Energon?" Ratchet asked.

Jazz and Optimus Prime had called in for a quick visit, and the saboteur took the pink liquid sustenance.

"No spoon," the tactician warned, but he was still weak and shaky.

Jazz cupped the Energon and Prowl's hands in his own in transit, and helped him swallow a little of the warm pink stuff.

"It hurts, doesn't it man," Jazz asked gently.

Ratchet snorted.

"No wonder, bringing up all that cycled Energon. Once it's in your system it turns alkaline. It's a lot different to just having an upset and vomiting Energon that's not yet converted,"

"Thanks for that visual Ratchet," Jazz groaned.

"How're you feeling Prowl?" Prime asked.  
"I still feel...strained. Sore," Prowl said.

"Well, you were a little sick,"  
"Sick?"

"You chucked up royally, several times," Jazz filled in with a grin.

"I see," Prowl said lightly, embarrassed, "Well, I'm sorry about that-"  
"Prowl for Primus' sake, don't worry about it," Ratchet interrupted, slightly exasperated.

"I don't remember," Prowl added quietly.

Jazz chuckled.

"'Raj and Hound had something of a struggle with you buddy; you kept ordering them to leave you and get out of there..."

Jazz looked at him.

"Man, did you really think we were just going to leave you in there to bleed to death?" he asked softly.

Prowl looked away.

"You all took a great risk with the virus…especially you Jazz,"

He added in a whisper.

"And you didn't?"

Prowl gazed at his hands.

"I didn't even realize it was Hound and Mirage who retrieved me, until you just said Jazz,"

"The first thing you managed to tell them was about the weapon in the ocean,"

"I owe them my life...I owe _all _of you my life," Prowl said softly.

"Prowl...we owe you ours, too. If you hadn't unleashed that virus on yourself, we'd none of us be here," Optimus Prime said seriously.

Prowl shifted uncomfortably at that.

He gingerly touched his midsection, cleaned, treated and covered with thick, protective flexseals.

But still sore.

"Prowl man, which of them did this to you?" Jazz asked in a low tone, laying a gentle hand on the flexseals.

Prowl caught the glint in his visor, and knew the names he gave would equal a big neon target to the saboteur, next time they met in battle.

He glanced away.

"They were acting under orders Jazz-"

"Prowl, tell me, right now,"

Jazz said quietly, the restrained anger in his vocalizer plain.

"Ramjet and Astrotrain. Mostly Astrotrain."

"And that slagging cat of Soundwave's," Ratchet added hotly, gently prodding a painful door-panel to be sure there was still no bleeding.

The Datsun's bodypaint was slowly regaining its original colour, as were his optics, but Prowl was still very weak and sore.

He also felt a little odd without his roof light, and windshield.

They all glanced up a tap on the medbay door.

"Prowl!" Bluestreak gave him an audio-to-audio grin as he rushed in.

"I'm so glad you're ok,"

The silver Datsun leaned over and hugged the tactician gently.

Prowl was able to reciprocate.

"Bluestreak, I'm so sorry for what I said to you that night in my quarters-"

"Forget it! I know you didn't mean it,"

"No, I definitely didn't," Prowl confirmed, "I didn't mean _any_-"

"We know Prowl," another voice cut in, and the Ark's resident engineer strolled in.

He carried a bulky Something through the medbay.

Wheeljack sat it at the end of the medbunk, a friendly sparkle in his optics.

"One operational energy collector Prowl, thanks to your equations,"

Words failed Prowl then.

The tactician made an effort to raise his arm, and Wheeljack gave him a warm handshake.

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"Jazz, no one will let me apologize," Prowl complained with consternation.

The tactician was up and about, still sporting flexseals however, and dragged back into the medbay every day for a check-up.

"Why do you need to apologize man? We all know now what was going on," Jazz grinned as they wandered into the aforementioned medical area.

"I just want to."

The Datsun peeled off his midsection flexseal.

Ratchet's way of doing it -with care and consideration- took up valuable time that the tactician thought he could better spend elsewhere.

Like on the duties he'd "shirked" for so long.

"Do you two have to do _everything _together?" Ratchet teased with a grin as they entered, gesturing to their twin damaged midsections.

Jazz's, half regenerated, Prowl's beginning to.

The medic was in the middle of a follow-up run through with Elita-One, concerning the inoculations.

"_Prowl, how are you_?" the female commander asked.

"I'm fine Elita, thank you for your concern,"

"He's not "fine" _yet_ Elita," Jazz corrected.

"Try keeping that one down, he's got the constitution of a slime-devil," Ratchet snorted.

The attractive female laughed gently.

"_I think that's a compliment Prowl_."

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"Elita, I still can't believe he did it," Optimus Prime confided in his quarters, seated in front of his comm console.

"_You've got many fine Autobots Optimus,_" she said quietly, "_Ones who are obviously willing to give their lives for you and their comrades_,"

"I know it Elita," Prime said softly, "And I hope I never see it happen again."

X  
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"Jazz, come in," Prowl invited warmly, and stepped back to let the saboteur enter his quarters.

He'd managed to personally apologize, individually, to every Autobot in the Ark.

Even to those childish mechs who'd covered their audios and hummed, refusing to listen.

Like the Porsche.

Jazz glanced around Prowl's neat, orderly quarters and grinned.

"What are you smiling at Jazz?" the tactician asked.

"Normalcy," the saboteur said, "And happy to have the old Prowl back."

"I'm glad to be back Jazz," Prowl said frankly.

Jazz watched him settle at the foot of his bunk.

His old spot for watching TV with the saboteur.

Jazz bounced up on the bunk next to him, filled with what he identified as pure happiness.

He faced the Datsun, noting the good job Hoist had done replacing his windshield and roof light.

Jazz needed to tell him something.

He'd been hanging onto it since the moment Prowl had arrived in the medbay, pouring Energon.

"Prowl man...I really thought you were gone this time," Jazz told him quietly.

"You were in such a bad way,"

Prowl glanced at him, then looked away.

"Jazz...I _was_ gone. I was gone the moment I activated the virus in the Decepticon base, and I knew it. I...I lost awareness not long after that,"  
Jazz listened silently.

"When I briefly regained consciousness, here, in the Ark medbay, I thought I was still in that cell. All I wanted was to speak to one of you again. Anybody. That's why I reached out to Ratchet, even though I knew he couldn't really be there,"

Prowl looked at Jazz.

The tactician's optics still weren't quite back to their normal sapphire shade.

"But we were man," Jazz said softly.

"The last thing I remember clearly is thinking how badly I'd failed the mission," Prowl told him seriously, "And I did."

"Oh man, trust you Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed, "You saved all our afts and you sit there and tell me you "failed the mission"! I'll kick your skidplate if you say it again!"  
The Datsun smiled slightly.

"One more thing," Jazz said.

The saboteur reached into a subspace pocket and re-placed the red insignia on the white chest.

"Welcome back Prowl man. We missed you."

_ End_


End file.
